Angels and Darkness
by PhoenixFantastic
Summary: A being with the power to project darkness forms an alliance with creatures that can only move when they're unobserved. What happens when those creatures decide that they want to fry bigger fish than the Guardians? As in, the governments and agencies that help protect the Earth? What if they wanted to cripple the entire planet? Rated T to be safe; violence and mild language.
1. Prologue

Angels and Darkness

 **Ok, first things first.**

 **Blanket disclaimer – I own nothing except for my original characters. All rights go to their respective owners. This story is written for fun and not for profit. Alright, now that's been taken care of.**

 **It should be noted that although this labeled as a Doctor Who/ROTG story, it's more of a Doctor Who/ROTG/Marvel crossover. Also, I don't intend for the Doctor to make more than one appearance, so don't get your hopes up.**

 **Also, this is not a romance story, so don't get your hopes up for that either.**

 **Finally, this is my first story, so please go easy on me.**

 **So, are we ready? Then ALLONS-Y!**

 _"If a Doctor could save only just one life from pain and from misery, that's what I want to be._

 _I would sail all around the world, a life of discovery that is the life for me._

 _If I could write every single day I would write all my cares away._

 _I'd be leading a different life, a wonderful life, a magical life."_

 ** _\- The Llewelyn Davis children; Finding Neverland_**

* * *

Jackson Overland sat up in bed at the sound of a distant explosion. The air smelled crisp and burnt as he got up on his knees to look out the window. The landscape of the woods around the family cabin looked the same as always, but he could just make out strange lights and dark shapes moving between the distant trees. If he listened closely, he could hear sounds of distant thumping and grumbling. He stood up and crossed the room. Emma, his little sister, was nervously huddled against the wall by the door.

"Jack" she whimpered "what's happening?" Their parents were away for the night, so Jack was currently the ultimate authority of the house.

"I'm going to find out." He offered a cheering smile, then cautiously stepped out the door. Every sound and smell that he'd experienced inside the cabin was amplified by 300 percent, and the very breeze that passed across his face was charged with energy - something big was about to go down. Emma apprehensively crept out the door and stood just behind him. Jack slowly took several steps forward, and Emma stayed close. Suddenly, a shrill screech spilt the blackness with a single word.

"INCOMING!"

A nanosecond later something the size of a cannonball thudded six inches away from Jack's feet and shattered with an ear-splitting crack, sending both him and Emma flying backwards. For a few moments both siblings were blinded by thick smoke. Jack coughed and called for Emma as he tried to stand. She might have called back, but with the ringing in his ears, it was hard to be sure. Without notice a pair of legs appeared in front of him, and a hand gripped his arm and helped to his feet. A pulse of energy filled him at the same moment and his head cleared.

"Civilians" a voice sighed, then "Y'all right, Stranger?"

"Yes. I'm all right" panted Jack. It was too dark to properly see the other person, but the voice told him it was a girl about his age. Even after she released his arm he could still feel that invigorating energy radiating, practically rolling, off her.

"Who are you?" He asked. "Where's Em-" Emma voice sounded from the darkness calling his name, Jack followed the noise and scooped her up in his arms. There was an unearthly shriek from the woods and the strange girl tilted her head towards it briefly before shoving Jack back towards the cabin while speaking very quickly.

"Okay, just stay in there and you'll be alright. Don't leave unless something really ugly breaks in because it'll probably want to kill you and at that point you'll definitely need to run." Jack half turned around.

"Wait, what?" The girl shoved him one last time.

"Relax, you guys'll be fine. Ciao!" And with that she turned and ran back to the trees. Jack watched her go, then retreated into the house slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Hours later, Jack was sitting on his bed with his back against the wall. Emma had fallen asleep leaning against him. Whatever had been going on earlier had stopped before anything truly dangerous had resulted and Jack had been dozing in and out of consciousness ever since. Abruptly, he snapped awake at a noise from outside. He eased Emma to the side and turned around to peer out the window.

A small brush fire was burning on the other side of the pond that sat less than ten feet from the cabin. From its light, he could see two silhouettes: The girl from earlier, and a man. The girl was dancing around and patting at her head which seemed ready to burst into flame. At the last second, she stripped a smoldering piece of cloth from her head, dropped on the ground and stamped on it. Then she picked it up again.

"Aww! That headband was a Christmas present from Grandma."

Now than he could see her better, Jack realized she was almost as skinny as he was. The man wasn't much fatter.

"Well," the man said in crisp, accented tones. "That did not go as well as I was hoping."

"You think?" Huffed the girl, and something small and furry perched on her shoulder squeaked in agreement. She continued "If you'd just let me take 'em out earlier, this mess would never have happened."

"Oh, typical human, answers every problem with violence."

"I'm right and you know it. Keep in mind that not everyone has nine lives before you try to negotiate with a species that's about to launch an invasion."

"Thirteen lives actually."

"Whatever."

"Anyway, don't try to pretend you're easy to kill as most of the members of your race. I've seen how fast you can heal. Now stop arguing, and let's go take care of that fire before it spreads."

"Pfffft. There's a pond right here. I'll have it out in a flash."

The two sauntered off and disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

The next day found Jack hanging upside down from a tree branch, much to the entertainment of Matthew and Elizabeth, who were the children of a family that lived nearby. Emma also found him entertaining, but was primarily concerned for his safety.

"Jack!" She giggled. "Jack, come down from there!"

Right then, the man and the girl from the night before burst out of the surrounding trees. Jack reached up and grabbed a hold of the branch he was hanging from so that he was dangling sideways and not upside-down. This allowed him a better view of the unusual twosome. The man was good-looking with soft brown hair and eyes. He wore a brown suit and a long brown overcoat that trailed to his ankles. The girl was shorter than him, but still tall for her age. She wore a plain, sleeveless, dark blue dress that fell to just above her knees, brightly colored pants that hugged her legs closely, and purple shoes. The furry thing on her shoulder now turned out to be an intelligent looking white rat. Strangest of all, however, was the girl's thick hair; clipped just below her ears, it was a bright red color. Not strawberry blonde, or bright orange, or even orangish red, but pure _red_ – and almost a neon red at that. The word neon had yet to be invented, so Jack had yet to hear of it, but even so he found himself wondering how it hadn't been glowing in the dark last night. The two were running full speed as though something amazing was awaiting them and they were eager to get to it. As they passed the group beneath the tree, the girl slowed momentarily to observe the group.

"Hey, wait!" Called Jack, and the man and the girl stopped and turned around. Jack adjusted himself so that he was half-hanging, half-sitting in the tree and went on, "I've seen you before." The man smiled cheerfully.

"Oh, quite likely. There was a bit of a ruckus last night what with Turtle-People trying to invade and establish a colony."

"Turtle-People?" asked Emma.

"Don't worry," said the red-haired girl, her chocolaty eyes sparkling. "We got rid of them." Her friend nodded.

"Right. Anyway – ah, what was your name?"

"Jack" said Jack.

"Jack" repeated the man. "Good name . . ." Then a look of realization dawned over his face. "No. Not Jackson Overland! Soon to become . . ." he cut himself off and grinned even wider than before. "Oh, that's brilliant!"

Right then, Matthew and Elizabeth heard their mother calling and ran off.

"Become what?" Asked Emma. The man looked at her and his grin faded somewhat.

"I'm sorry?"

"What does Jack become?" The man's face grew serious and he looked back to Jack.

"You'll find out." Jack felt an icy chill run up his spine. The man had responded to Jack, but it had been Emma who'd asked the question. It was almost as though Emma would never get to see whatever it was he was destined to become. Jack looked at the red-haired girl. Her face was blank and even slightly confused – clearly, she didn't share in whatever knowledge her friend had concerning Jack's future. The white rat on her shoulder briefly climbed onto the man and nipped impatiently at his ear.

"Well, anyway" he continued, "better be moving on. Lots of places to see." The girl's expression lit up. Was it Jack's imagination, or did part of her iris's shift from brown to purple?

"He's taking me to, um, Fellspoon to see these mountains that sway in the breeze." She said eagerly.

"Anyway, Jack, Emma, lovely talking with you." The man grasped the girl's hand, and started to turn away but stopped. "I will give you one last piece of advice, though." He looked from Emma to Jack and back again. "Make the most of your Summer - it can't last forever." Abruptly his mood switched from serious to light-hearted as he turned and ran away pulling his companion with him.

"Cheerio!" He shouted back.

"See ya!" The girl yelled over her shoulder.

Jack watched them leave, then attempted to climb down but slipped and fell instead. Providentially, the soft grass cushioned his fall. Emma helped him up, but her face was unusually serious.

"Jack, how did he know my name?" Jack thought for a moment.

"I-I don't know."

"Was he from the future? Is something bad going to happen to me?" Jack knelt and looked her in the eye.

"No, Emma, I won't ever let that happen." He pushed her hair behind her ear. "I promise." Emma's face brightened visibly; if Jack promised something, then that something was guaranteed.

As they were walking away, a strange noise came from the direction the man and the girl had disappeared in, a wheezing, rasping, groaning noise. The man and the girl were never seen again – at least in that particular time period. As it turned out, Jack and Emma weren't the only ones to have met the pair or the only witnesses to the events of the night before. Almost every one of the other settlers had a story to tell, and while all of them had a certain degree of outlandishness, at least half of them were at least partially exaggerated. As a result, the entire event was quickly dismissed as a hoax.

This all took place in the early Spring of 1712. That next Summer, Jack and Emma were each gifted with a pair of ice skates by a traveling merchant who had been unsuccessful in selling them and wanted to be rid of them. And the following Winter, Jack took his little sister on an excursion to their pond to try them out.

* * *

 **And that's a wrap! Sorry if this seemed a little long. I'll try to make my future chapters a bit shorter.**

 **Please review and tell me what you think!**

 ***Also, for those who don't speak Italian (you're not alone, I don't speak it either) "Ciao" it the Italian word for "Hello" and "Goodbye."**


	2. Chapter 1

**First off, shout-out to my first follower ever: Dolphinsong15 - Thank you so much, you made my day. BTW, dolphins are some of my favorite animals, and the number 15 is my favorite number.**

 **Also, sorry that this update is a little later than I meant it to be. I caught a case of writer's block last weekend, and an even worse case of the flu at the same time. In the future, I'm going to try to be as consistent as possible with my updates. Said updates will probably come once a week.**

 **Finally, if anyone has any questions about my OC feel free to ask in the comments section.**

* * *

 _"_ _Ain't too sure what I believe in, but I believe in what I see."_

 ** _\- Aloe Blacc and Owl City; Verge_**

The slim figure of a teenage girl descended though the fading light and alighted gently on the landing pad outside Stark Tower. She was dressed in a one-piece leotard dress; a red mini skirt, and a grey long-sleeve top. A hood attached to the back of the outfit completely hid her hair and stretched over the top part of her face as a sort of domino mask. Boots the same color as the skirt reached above her knees. The entire ensemble - while modest and sturdy - was a bit too thin for late winter in New York City, however the intense energy that burned pleasantly beneath her skin kept the worst of cold at bay.

A blue-eyed white rat crawled out of a pocket on her skirt and settled on her shoulder; the girl took a moment to orient herself before straitening her shoulders and sauntering into the tower. From the way she carried herself, one might have thought she owned the whole building. She didn't, but she was a friend of Mr. Stark. As soon as she crossed over the threshold, his User Interface greeted her.

"Good Evening, Sting."

"JARVIS, my man! How goes it?"

"Very well, thank you. How are things with you?"

"Groovy as always. Is Mr. Stark in?"

"Unfortunately, he left for his home is Malibu about three hours ago."

"Darn."

"What brings you to New York?"

"Well, actually I heard on the news that that the Mindless Ones were rampaging in Times Square, so I thought I'd come do something about it. Only when I got here there was no sign of them, except for some busted Jumbotrons. Did Mr. Stark do anything?"

"No, he did not." A holographic video of a news report appeared. "There was a report of hostile creatures attacking the city tonight. Unfortunately, it seems the news crew had to flee before anything else could develop. But, perhaps Dr. Richards knows what happened."

"Yeah, great idea!" Sting turned to the white rat draped across her shoulder. "Baba, if I forget, remind me to drop by Dr. Richard's Lab tonight." Baba nodded, but as they both had short attention spans it was unlikely that either one would remember at any sort of a convenient time. "Thanks, JARVIS!" She called as she turned towards the exit.

"My pleasure, as always."

"See you around!"

Sting walked back outside, then sprinted to the edge of the landing pad and threw herself off. Her energy lifted her up and prevented her from falling, but instead of willing it to boost her high in the sky, she simply used just enough to "jump" to the nearest rooftop. Once there she sprinted to the other side and "jumped" again. It felt amazing to use her legs again after flying all the way from California. Again, and again she hurdled and flipped from rooftop to rooftop, singing Verge by Owl City as she did so.

 _"_ _Out on the verge of the rest of our lives tonight_

 _Top of the world and we're dressed to the nines tonight_

 _Edge of the earth and we're touching the sky tonight_

 _Out on the verge of the rest of our lives."_

By this time, she'd reached the edge of a building overlooking Times Square where cleanup crews were already hard at work. The damage reminded her of why she had come there in the first place.

"Where did they go?" She wondered out loud. She was about to go drop by Dr. Richards lab, when a voice behind her interrupted her thoughts.

"What exactly are you looking for?"

Sting was surprised that someone had been able to sneak up behind her without attracting Baba's attention. But she didn't want to let on that she was at all startled, so, after exchanging a look with her companion, she proceeded to answer the question in a normal voice even though the voice hadn't sounded like it expected a response at all.

"These creatures from another dimension called Mindless Ones. They're like six feet tall, rock hard all the way through, and can release energy through their eyes. I heard they were on the loose, but now I can't seem to find them."

"Wait," said the voice. "Can you hear me?"

 _That_ was a strange question for sure, and certainly not the response that Sting had been expecting. She turned around to see who was speaking.

"Uh . . . yeah."

Standing in front of her was a boy about her own age. He was even skinnier than she was (if it were possible) and had pale skin, icy blue eyes and a mop of tousled white hair – hair that was way too natural looking to merely be bleached. He wore a plain blue hoodie, brown pants, and in his hand, he carried a tall staff with a peculiar hook at the end. His feet were bare, and from them a patch of frost was slowly spreading across the rooftop.

"Can you _see_ me?" The boy asked.

"Yeah." Sting took a step forward, stretched her arm out and poked the boy in the shoulder. "And I can feel you too, before you ask. Why wouldn't I be able to see you?"

"Welllll," said the boy a little awkwardly as he scratched the back of his head, "you have to believe in me to see me and people your age usually don't."

"Huh. I believe in a lot of wacky stuff . . . but still . . ." Sting's voice trailed off. She'd already seen so many impossible things in the sixteen years of her life that there were very few things that she flat out didn't believe in. But nevertheless, if she believed in this strange person, she ought to know him. Let's see - white hair, icy blue eyes . . . something to do with ice? Snow? And the patch of frost at his feet. Wow, it was so much prettier than the stuff than occasionally formed on the roof back home- no, no, stay focused. Frost. That was it! Something Frost. J . . . Frost.

"Frost." She said out loud. "Joe. . ." The boy looked surprised at that. Sting went on thinking out loud without noticing his expression. "Jimmy, Jack, John . . . wait . . . Jack!" She looked up.

"You're Jack Frost."

"Yes!" Said Jack, excitedly throwing up his arms in celebration. The frost around his feet spread even faster in response to his movement. "And you are . . ."

"Sting." She motioned to the rodent on her shoulder. "And this is Babaraba."

The frost had almost reached her feet. Afraid that the energy radiating from her body would melt the feathery patterns, Sting lifted off her feet and hovered in place so she could watch it go by underneath her.

"Whoa," said Jack in amazement. "You can fly?"

Sting remembered that just because someone could jump from one rooftop to another, it didn't necessarily mean they could fly – it simply might mean they could glide on air currents, or affect gravity.

"Mmm-hmm! Check this out!" She dropped onto the raised edge of the building and backflipped off. A moment later she popped back up again. "Ta-daaa!"

Jack laughed, jumped off the roof and floated next to her. They bobbed there for a moment, grinning at each other like maniacal Jack-o-lanterns, before Jack noticed something strange. The inner part of Sting's chocolaty irises were turning a rich purple. In fact, the purple was threatening to completely consume the brown. Before he could say anything, he found himself turning to fall beside Sting as they soared through the streets of Manhattan. Faster and faster they went, shooting around corners and over the tops of buildings.

For Jack this was an entirely new sensation, albeit a pleasant one, as he only knew a handful of people who could fly under their own power and none of them ever went flying with him recreationally. For Sting this was pure and simple bliss. Eventually they flew even higher, diving in and out of the clouds and backflipping over the full moon that was already hanging in the sky. After a while, Sting looked down and saw a small town laid out below them. The sight of this town seemed to make Jack even more joyful and he promptly dive-bombed straight down. Sting followed suit, and as the neared the town a group of children playing in the snow became visible. Jack whooped as he fell and pulled up right before he hit the ground. The children all shouted with excitement, and as Jack dropped to his feet they all ran to greet him. Sting cautiously landed a little way behind him so as not to draw attention, but some of the children noticed her anyway.

"Hey Jack, who's that?"

"Everyone, this is Sting."

Jack then introduced the children. The tall girl was Pippa; the larger girl dressed in pink (who looked like she could have a future in being a bouncer) was Cupcake; the African-American boys, Claude and Caleb, were brothers; and the nerdy looking boy with the glasses was Monty. Questions towards Sting came pouring in.

"Are you a superhero?"

"How do you fly? Do you use the wind like Jack?"

"Do you know the Avengers?"

Sting answered the questions as best she could.

"I don't call myself a superhero, but you can if you want to. Uh, it's a bit complicated to explain exactly how I fly; and yes, I know the all Avengers. They're way awesome-er than they seem on TV."

At that moment, a car pulled into the driveway of the house across the street and a family of four got out. While the Mother and Father began to take out suitcases from the back, the children – a young brown haired boy and an even younger blonde haired girl – saw their friends and began to run over to them.

"Kids! Come help unload the car!"

"I will, Mom!" Responded the boy. "I just want to say 'Hi' to everyone."

Both children were swarmed like chunks of bloody meat that have been tossed into piranha infested waters. In turn, when they saw Jack both flung themselves at him as though they were the carnivorous fish and he were the meat.

"Hey!" Laughed Jack, "How was your trip to New York?"

"It was cool!" Said the boy, "Grandma took us to see so many places, like . . ." His voice trailed off as he noticed Sting.

"Hi, uh, I'm Sting and this is Baba."

The boy smiled. "I'm Jamie, and this is my sister Sophie."

"Nice. So, you were saying about your Grandma?"

"Yeah, she lives in New York; we just came back from visiting her over the weekend. And look! She gave me her old camera!"

Jamie produced a large manila envelope, and from it he pulled out an ancient polaroid and about two dozen photos which he proceeded to pass around. Sophie, meanwhile, ran back to across to their parents.

"Saaaaay, these are good." Said Sting in admiration of Jamie's cinematography. "You could grow up to be a photographer . . ."

Her voice trailed off, her face grew serious, and her eyes literally greyed with fear. The picture in her hand showed the gates of a cemetery, and standing just through the wide archway, on a short pedestal like a host for visitors, was the statue of an angel. Its face was buried in its hands as though it were perpetually weeping for the dearly departed. Sting knew what kind of creature it really was and couldn't help but wonder how Jamie and his family could have been that close to it and still be here to show off these pictures. And speaking of pictures, wasn't there some reason why those things shouldn't ever have their pictures taken? Some crazy old guy had said something to her once to that effect, something . . . about images. Now what was it? What . . . was . . . it?

"Uh, Sting?" asked Jack who has noticed her vacant stare. Sting snapped out of her trance and looked up.

"Huh? Oh." The other kids were passing the pictures back to Jamie. Sting glimpsed two other pictures containing more of the statues – one of them showed a church with two angels standing outside like mournful sentries. She had a strong feeling that those pictures were somehow dangerous, that she should steal them and take them where they couldn't do any harm. But she didn't really have any proof. There was no reason she could give to Jamie that would adequately explain why she needed to confiscate his pictures. Besides, what if she was wrong and they were perfectly ordinary? So, it was with great reluctance that she gave up the pictures in her hand. She barely noticed as Jamie briefly ran off to help his family carry suitcases into the house, nor did she put much thought into the Smalltalk that passed though the group while they waited for him to come back.

When Jamie finally returned, Sting pushed the pictures out of her head as a vote was taken on whether the group should go sledding or have a snowball fight. The results were unanimous as with the fading light they kids might not have time to fetch their sleds before they were called inside. Right before the free-for-all started, Jack scooped up a handful of snow and shaped it into a perfect sphere.

"Hey, Sting!" he said with mischievous grin, "How are you at snowball fights?"

Sting knew darn well that as the newbie of the group she would easily be the most popular target. Baba knew it too and she could feel him crawling inside her hood and crouching behind her neck like a man ducking into a bomb shelter. She quickly bundled together her own snowball and flashed an impish smirk of her own.

"Let's find out."

In all the excitement, nobody noticed the shadowy figure slipping through Jamie's bedroom window.

* * *

 **Sorry if this chapter seemed a little slow. Things will definitely start picking up in the next one.**

 **By-the-by, I did not name Sting after the music artist. Actually, it was several years after I dreamed her up that I first learned such an artist existed.**

 **I will include more info about the Mindless Ones in a later chapter.**

 **Thank you for your patience. Ciao!**


	3. Chapter 2

**This chapters going to be a little on the long side; I apologize in advance.**

 **Also, the violence is going to pick up a lot.**

 _"_ _That which holds the image of an angel becomes itself an angel."_

 _ **11**_ _ **th**_ _ **Doctor; The Time of Angels**_

* * *

It was a slaughterhouse.

For someone who could be so deadly in actual combat, Sting didn't stand a chance. For starters, it was her first snowball fight ever. There wasn't much snow on the beaches of California (where her home was) and except for the absolute coldest parts of winter there wasn't even much ice. Everyone's first snowball had gone straight for her without mercy; Jack's had been the first to make contact. By the time she'd shaken the snow out of her eyes, he'd already put some distance between them. The next several minutes were spent bobbing, ducking, weaving, and generally trying to make use of the countless nerf and laser tag wars she'd played with her brothers. Everything was icy cold, and she could already feel the moisture from the snow seeping through her hood and getting her hair damp. And yet this was still the most fun she'd had all week. When the free-for-all had evened out somewhat she began to return fire. Because she was a strong believer in the principle of payback she wasn't deterred from looking out for an opportune moment to hit Jack even though he was the hardest target of all.

For the sake of sportsmanship, she used her powers as little as possible, although they did help her avoid some painful experiences. At one point, she realized that she was on an unavoidable crash course with Cupcake. There was no way to stop in time without either party losing their footing, so Sting instead jumped high over the girl's head, flipped in midair, and landed on the other side. Cupcake lifted her head to follow Sting's arc but forgot to pay attention to her feet and slipped, thudding onto her back. A snowball that Jack had chosen that instant to throw missed her nose by half an inch and sailed on to solidly cream a random man walking by.

The man stumbled, cursed, and roared with anger. Everyone stopped and held still. In the blink of an eye, Sting, after (correctly) deciding that she - as seemingly the oldest person present - would be singled out for a tongue-lashing, willed her energy to direct light away from her. So it was when the man looked up, he failed to see the two teenagers and instead just saw a bunch of kids. This did not at all help to abate his fury.

"Sorry, Mister!" Yelled Claude apologetically.

"Who the hell threw that?!" Hollered the man. Everyone exchanged awkward looks, then Jamie answered:

"Umm . . . Jack Frost." This reply only seemed to aggravate the man.

"Jack Frost? Grow up!" The man turned and continued to walk down the sidewalk, brushing the snow off his coat and droning on to himself. "Damn kids can't even take responsibilities for their own s****ing actions."

Sting was standing too far away to properly hear this last part, but Baba, even from where he was nestled in her hood, had no problem making out the words and reporting them to her. And although she was still invisible, her eyes began to turn a dangerous shade of green as her temper flared. This man was irking her to no end.

"Wanna join us?" She called after him. "We'll play 'Horse.' I'll be the front half, and you just be yourself." Jack guffawed and the kids snickered while the man whirled around angrily.

"You should be apologizing for your irresponsibility and negligence!"

"We _did_ apologize. You should apologize for using such awful language around children. Y'know, like 'I'm sorry?' Ever hear those words? I think they're what the doctor said when he handed you to your mother!"

Sting usually didn't talk this way to adults - but the look on this guy's face was priceless as he scanned the faces of all the children, watched their mouths and tried to figure out who was taking. After several seconds, his eyes widened and backed away for several steps before turning and walking away very, very, quickly. The giggles of the children echoed after him. Well, at least until they heard their parents calling them in for dinner; then the giggles turned to moans of protest. But they had to give in, and as Sting became visible they bade her and Jack goodnight and even asked her to come back again sometime. As the kids left, Jack looked at Sting and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Hey, your hands are glowing."

Sting looked at her hands. Sure enough, in the sparse daylight a faint golden radiance could be seen coming from her hands.

"Yeah, they do that when I get excited." She failed to mention that it also might be her healing factor curing her bare hands of mild frostbite, and instead reached into the pockets of her skirt to pick out clumps of snow that had made their way in. The clumps melted under her touch before she could flick them away.

"Is that why you kept hitting me with slush-balls instead of snowballs?"

Sting rolled her eyes. "Oh, you zip it."

They walked over to a nearby pond. Sting formed her energy into two small, thin rectangles which she projected on the bottoms of her feet and proceeded to use as ice skate blades. Jack, who had insisted on going out on the ice first in order to add several more inches to its thickness, slid around on his bare feet with surprising ease. A light wind sprang up to dance with them as they spiraled about. The sun gradually disappeared and stars unhurriedly became visible in the dark, inky sky. It was beautiful and peaceful.

That is, until a brief cry of pain sounded through the night.

Baba, who had been dozing off in Sting's pocket, startled awake and zipped up to her shoulder. Sting and Jack exchanged a single look before taking off in the direction of the noise. It took them several minutes to find the source. In fact, they might not have found it at all if it weren't for Baba's sharp eyes and sense of smell.

The figure lay motionless, partially concealed from view behind some bushes in the backyard of his house. It was a full-grown man, lying on his back; his wide-open eyes were staring into space while his lifeless hand still gripped the handles of a trash bag. Whatever intruder had lured him this far from the trash cans had quickly bested him, for the man's neck was wrenched to the side and twisted at such an inhumane angle that at one glance Sting and Jack both knew he was dead. Sting bit her lip, then made her hand glow and held it close to the unfortunate man's face to chase away the shadows of concealment. Double shocker: It was the jerky louse from earlier – the one whom Jack had hit with a snowball by accidence.

"Who could have done this?" Jack asked in a horrified voice. Sting didn't answer. Her eyes turned a sad shade of blue as a momentary pang of guilt coursed through her for the insults she had called after him. Sure, the Jerk had deserved them at the time, but now he was _dead_. She hadn't wanted _that_.

Suddenly, a female voice called out from the house, "Kyle?"

Almost all the blue in Sting's eyes faded back to chocolaty brown as she reflexively disappeared. A woman, who looked to be about the same age as the man, stepped out from the back porch. She was dressed in a turquoise bathrobe and her wet hair hung down her back. From the way she looked around the backyard she, like the man before her, could neither see nor hear Jack. Her eyes focused on the dark lump protruding from the bushes that was the man's upper body, and she cautiously stepped forwards.

"Kyle? Honey?"

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity she neared the body. Sting and Jack cautiously drew back and stood a little way behind her. All at once, she screamed, turned, and ran sobbing back to the house. In the process, she took a slightly different route – one that threatened to bring her on a collision course with Jack. Sting, still invisible, reached out and grasped his wrist with the intent of pulling him out of the way; but instead of colliding with Jack, as Sting had expected, the woman ran _through_ Jack.

Jack gasped as though he were hurt and both he and Sting froze with shock at the exact same moment. They didn't move until the woman had slammed the door behind her, then Sting flickered into full visibility. Her fingers were still locked around Jack's wrist.

"What . . . just . . . _happened_?"

"She must not believe in me." Said Jack softly. His voice was horse, but calm as though it were old news. Sting didn't let go of him, but instead squeezed his wrist a little tighter as though trying to reaffirm his presence.

"She ran . . . right through you. It was like you weren't even there."

"Yeah, I've really never gotten used to it."

Sting raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth to ask exactly how often this kind of thing happened, when something white on the ground caught her eye. It was a polaroid photo, but when she lifted it up her heart almost stopped beating.

It wasn't just any polaroid photo. It was one of Jamie's. It was the one she's been looking at earlier: The one with an Angel standing watch at the gates of a cemetery. But now the gates had been left unguarded.

The Angel was gone.

She bent down and carefully lifted Kyle's shoulder, pulling out two more pictures. Jack looked over her shoulder.

"Aren't those Jamie's?"

"Yea." Her voice was gravelly, as though her mouth had suddenly gone dry. "Notice anything missing?" She placed the pictures in his hand, then bent to retrieve two more that were scattered farther away.

"Where did the Angel things go?"

Sting straightened, paused from examining the other pictures, then slapped her forehead. "GAH! That's IT!"

"Huh?"

"Why couldn't I remember before?" Sting asked herself. "Cause I'm a ding-dong, that's why." She was pacing a little now, her eyes whirlpools of frustrated green and nervous silver. Baba was an agitated white puffball and his ears were swiveling back and forth like tiny radars while his mistress ranted. "And now they're on the loose. I should've gone with my gut. I should've just taken and burned-"

Jack dropped the pictures, got in front of her and took her by the shoulders. "Hey. Okay. Slow down. Just tell me what you remembered."

Sting took a calming breath. "I met this wacked-out old guy once. He knew all sort of things about these dangerous beings called the Weeping Angels, and one thing he told me went something like 'anything that holds the image of an Angel becomes itself an Angel.'"

Jack frowned slightly and looked as though he were about to say something, but without warning he pivoted away from the house and fired a blast of ice from the tip of his staff.

"What's wrong?" hissed Sting. Jack tensed slightly as though he were hearing something unpleasant, then pushed her behind him.

"What do you want?" he demanded the darkness.

Sting squinted ahead into the blackness, but could see nothing. Yet Baba was bristling like a cat when it sees a threat, so there must be a threat of some kind. She tapped Jack on the shoulder.

"Um, Jack? Who are you talking to?"

"Pitch Black." Upon getting no response he looked back and studied her face. "You can't see him?"

"Uh, no." She admitted sheepishly. "I guess you'll have to translate for me."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth, then it seemed to her as though a tall figure dressed in black materialized from the shadow of a tree. He had grey skin, dark hair that was divided into three tall spikes, a mouthful of pointed teeth, and, weirdest of all, _yellow_ eyes. Seriously, what person on planet Earth actually had yellow eyes? Okay, no, she should just act cool.

"Never mind." She said calmly. "There you are."

The tall figure smiled maliciously. Sting couldn't help narrowing her eyes – the last time she'd seen a smile that psychotic it had been on the face of someone who'd been leading an army against Earth. She stepped out from behind Jack.

"Who exactly are you anyway?"

That psycho smile grew even wider. "Haven't you ever heard of the Boogeyman?" Sting's face looked as though her brain had short-circuited. The Boogeyman was at the top of the list of things she positively didn't believe in.

"Don't look so surprised." Pitch continued. "Who did you think it was that could make so many people afraid of the dark?"

Sting tried to save what remained of her dignity. "Weeeell, honestly, I always thought it was these creatures called the Vashta Nerada, but now I'm thinking it was a combination of you two."

"Vashta Nerada: The piranhas of the air."

"Yes!" She squeaked. She didn't know very many people who knew what the Vashta Nerada were. Then she caught the odd look Jack was giving her, and cleared her throat. "Anyhoo, did you have anything to do these?" She picked up the pictures on the ground and displayed all of them like a fan. "Or this?" She motioned to the dead body on the ground. She cocked her head to the side while she waited for his response. Her voice was relaxed and her face was calm, but her stance was cautious.

Pitch chuckled, a creepy skin-crawling sound, and was promptly swallowed up by the shadows behind him. His disturbing laughter continued to echo through the air. Then his silhouette briefly appeared on the back porch of the house while his shadow stretched to envelop to entire backyard. Sting tensed and involuntarily stepped backwards. Not out of pure terror, but more out of strong survival instincts – shadows that seemed to grow of their own resolve were strongly reminiscent of the Vashta Nerada and she had once lost three fingers to those things. Sure, they'd grown back after a few hours, but it was still a painful memory. Pitch laughed a second time, evidently enjoying her nervousness, and disappeared again.

"What wrong? Scared of the dark?" His voice seemed to emanate from all around them.

Jack glimpsed a shadow on the roof and fired another icy blast before jumping up in pursuit. Sting followed, growling threats under her breath. When they reached the peak, there was no sign of their opponent. That is, until a spectral black horse with golden eyes charged from behind the chimney and attempted to body-slam them. Sting grabbed Jack by the shoulder and pulled him out of the way with one hand and released a raw blast of energy from the fingers of the other. The blast hit the horse in the neck and it instantly vaporized into black dust. More horses charged from seemingly nowhere, but between Sting and Jack none of them lasted more than a few seconds.

"Is that the best you got?" She challenged when there seemed to be no more attacks.

Pitch appeared behind them. "No. Not anymore." He disappeared, then rematerialized on the roof across the street. Jack and Sting followed in pursuit.

"Why are you here, Pitch?" Demanded Jack. "What do you want?"

Pitch smiled nastily, then disappeared again and reappeared behind them.

"Will you stop sneaking around already?" Sting huffed.

Pitch eyed her and smirked. "Afraid?" He asked in a teasing voice. Two more horse things appeared on each side of him. Their combined shadows extended threateningly, but this time neither Jack nor Sting budged.

"Of you?" Her voice was almost scornful. "Keep on dreaming, you overgrown weasel, and answer his questions already."

"But you are afraid of something. Everyone's afraid of something." He and his otherworldly minions melted into the shadows. "Shall I tell you what scares you the most?" Sting looked, at the neighboring rooftop, and sure enough there he was.

"You're afraid that one day, something terrible may happen to your family and you won't be able to save them."

Sting tensed and stopped, hovering on the edge of Pitch's roof. He was right. She had never put much thought into what her worst fear might be, but he was right. Her eyes changed to a sickened, fearful grey. That is, until she gradually became aware of Jack's presence behind her – Jack whom she'd only known for a few hours and who now knew exactly what her worst fear was.

Her eyes changed from grey to green with alarming speed as her temper flared for the second time that night. If Pitch had known more about her he'd have already turned tail and fled the scene. Not everyone who had been on the receiving end of those green eyes had lived to tell about it. Her hand was raised before anyone could blink, and the blast that came from it caught Pitch in the face and knocked him off the rooftop. It wasn't a fatal discharge, but if he'd been human its sheer power would have melted his face and the impact of him hitting the ground would have fractured his skull (and probably half the bones in his body).

Sting turned back to Jack. "Okay, what next?" She asked in a casual tone.

Jack recovered from his surprise at her outburst. "I need to go tell North that Pitch is back."

"Who? Never mind. You can tell me on the way."

But Jack shook his head. "No, it's too cold for you where I'm going. You have to stay here."

He began to fly away, but Sting bounded after him, grabbed him by the hood of his sweater, and hauled him back down.

"Fat chance. If you think I'm going to be left behind now you've got another think coming." Jack looked unconvinced, so she switched tactics. "Look, wherever we're going, even if it's to the Arctic, I can take it. And whatever's happening now, I'll bet you ten to one the Weeping Angels are involved; and they are nothing short of bad news. I know more about them than anyone on the planet" (this was a slight exaggeration) "and between them and that Nazgul-ish weasel, you're going to need all the help you can get." Jack was still looking slightly skeptical. "And anyway, I'm gonna keep you here until you let me come with you." She looked him dead in the eye, and waited for his response.

Jack exhaled heavily. "How fast can you fly?"

Sting let go of him and smiled in relieved triumph. "Pretty fast." They took off into the night.

"Where are we going?"

"The North Pole."

* * *

 **This story takes place about two years after The Battle of New York.**

 **So, how am I doing so far?**


	4. Chapter 3

**First off, I'm really sorry this is so late.**

 **To DolphinSong15: I'm so glad you're enjoying it! And thank you for not unfollowing me during this long delay.**

 **And finally, to anyone unfamiliar with the Weeping Angels, their defining trait is their ability to move incredibly fast as long as they are outside the sight of any living creature.**

 **Okay, on with the show!**

 _We're watchin' and waitin'_

 _On the edge of our seats anticipatin'._

 _It's lookin' awful permanent, but we know it could go away._

 _We're keepin' our eyes peeled, keepin' 'em glued to the spot._

 _Cause one moment it's there, but then the next maybe not._

 _Don't know if it's magic or some weird cosmic plot,_

 _So, we're watchin' and waitin'._

 _ **Phineas and Ferb; Watchin' and Waitin'; Don't Even Blink**_

* * *

 _December, over a year ago._

 _The Caye family sat in their living room, finishing a round a Christmas Carols. Those who held wind instruments alternated between playing and singing. The father sat at the piano, the youngest member (a fifteen-year-old redhead) held a guitar in her lap, the youngest boy held a saxophone, and the next-youngest boy held a trombone. The oldest boy sat empty-handed next to the mother but his trumpet was in easy reach. On the floor in front of the TV, curled up in a state of blissful slumber, lay a slim white rat and a black-and-tan ferret. As the final carol ended, the ferret stirred and began to claw at the carpet._

 _"_ _Oy!" Snapped the saxophone boy. "Cool it, Weasel!"_

 _The ferret (whose name was Weasel) stirred from his dream with a miffed snort then settled back down again. Everyone moved to put their instruments away - that is, everyone except for the red-haired girl. She sat with her guitar and looked thoughtful._

 _"_ _What if there really is a Jack Frost?"_

 _"_ _Huh?" Several voices questioned at once._

 _The girl tugged awkwardly at the Star of David around her neck. "Y'know, "Jack Frost nipping at your nose?"" She quoted the most recent carol. "What if there's a real, legit Jack Frost?"_

 _"_ _Oh, M, it's . . . just a song." Said the mother. But the saxophone boy shook his brown and sun-bleached curls._

 _"_ _Don't forget – we weren't sure if aliens existed, but last May they were literally all over New York." The other boys nodded in agreement. "After that mashugana, I don't think there's much else that could truly surprise me."_

* * *

Jack hadn't been kidding when he said the flight would be too cold for Sting. If she was a normal human, she would have already developed frostbite all over her face and hands. The iciness of the air felt like it was threatening to strip off any exposed skin which, by now, had developed a definite purplish tinge. Her eyes were a dull shade of pained blue. Baba was once again nestled inside her hood, trying to stay warm but unwilling to miss anything exciting that might happen. Nonetheless, Sting didn't regret insisting that Jack bring her along. After all, it was partially her fault that the Weeping Angels were roaming around Burgess. At least the citizens wouldn't be in any immediate danger; the Angels were clever and would be sure to prowl around to get the lay of the land before they started claiming victims. She briefly wondered if Pitch had allied himself with them, but dismissed the idea for the time being. For starters, it was unlikely the Angels would ever ally themselves with anyone outside their own species. Also, how could they communicate? The Angels had no voices, as far as she could tell. Even her friend the Doctor had said so, and _he_ knew practically everything there was to know about anything.

For the first part of the trip, she and Jack had traded information: What the name of the town was (Burgess); what those spectral horses were (Nightmares, apparently); what the Weeping Angels were (generally); and what Pitch's abilities were. It was during the discussion of this final topic that Sting realized that it was her initial fear of Angels while they were still in the pictures that had attracted Pitch and invited him to investigate the source of that fear. For the last part of the trip, they had soared in complete silence except for the whistling of the wind in their ears. Sting found it interesting to compare their relative styles of flight – while she flew in a straight line with only her arms out for balance, Jack flipped and spun like an enormous snowflake. Even so, he still managed to haul himself at a phenomenal pace.

At long last, a building became visible in the distance. It was a truly magnificent structure with narrow windows, peaked gables, towers with onion shaped roofs, and a domed top. At first glance, it seemed to rise no more than one story from the ice of the cliff-top on which it was built. But, a further glance revealed at least three more stories built _into_ the cliff below the initial level. Sting's initial impression of the edifice was rather austere for every one of the numerous windows was dark and lifeless. Jack flew to some type of enormous front door and hammered on it with his staff. No one answered. Sting hovered behind him at looked uneasily at the darkened windows.

"I've got a bad f-f-feeling about this-s-s." She shivered as Jack hammered on the doors a second time and hollered for North (and someone named Phil).

"Yea, why d-don't you g-go ahead and al-l-lert any crooks inside t-t-to our arrival." She turned and flew up to the roof to look for another way in. Jack trailed her and eyed her discolored skin with concern.

"You okay?"

"I'm f-f-fine." Fine, for Sting, was code for _not-fine-at-all-but-we've-got more-important-things-to-do_. "I'll b-be better off once we g-get inside."

A massive skylight in the domed roof provided an entrance. Sting and Jack hesitated at the edge and looked in. It was dark inside, but from the light behind them they could make out a stone floor, the edge of an immense rug, the thick wooden railing of a balcony, and part of an enormous globe in the center of the room.

"What are the odds the Angels are already inside?" Jack whispered soberly.

Sting though for a moment. "N-Not that good, but s-s-still possible."

Jack recalled the conversation they'd had before they'd met Pitch. "Did that old guy you mentioned say anything else that might help us?"

"Yea, he s-s-s-s-said a lot of stuff, but we were in a dangerous situation so I don't r-remember most of it. It was good stuff though. I t-t-told him he should write a book."

They dropped through the skylight and automatically landed back to back, poised and at the ready. A large fire was burning in a fireplace several yards away, but it did almost nothing to abate the gloom. Not much could be seen that wasn't immediately in the light, but faint rustling noises could be heard – as though there were several _somethings_ moving swiftly and silently in the darkness. Yet they were so faint that it was ridiculously easy for the brain to convince itself there was nothing there at all. Even sharp-eared Baba was having trouble hearing anything significant. They watched and strained their ears for several seconds.

"I'm not hearing much." Jack hissed. "You?"

"No, but _they_ can move really quietly." The outer part of her irises turned a deep purple as adrenaline coursed through her system.

" _Now_ you tell me. Is there anything else I need to know?"

She thought for a moment. "If _they_ really are here, don't look in their eyes. I'm not sure why, but I think it's bad."

"O-K."

"Let's split up. You go that way, I'll go this way."

Jack nodded in agreement. "Okay, uh, scream if anything bad happens."

"Trust me, that is _so_ not going to be a problem." They moved away from each other.

"Good luck."

Sting's hand briefly strayed up to touch a necklace hidden inside her dress.

"God bless." She said in response. Then, because her inner geek could not be suppressed, she added "May the odds be ever in your favor." She turned invisible as they parted ways.

Jack pivoted towards the railing of the balcony and craned his neck upwards as a soft thump came from another balcony that wrapped around the other side of the room. Gripping his staff tightly in both hands, he perched on the beam for approximately two and a half seconds before gliding up towards where the noise had come from. But when he landed, he stopped short.

Everything was in chaos. The thick wooden tables and shelves that were used to build and display toys were overturned, and the shattered playthings littered the floor. As his eyes adjusted rapidly to the darkness he cautiously stepped forward, then jumped in surprise.

For he saw one of _them_.

The Angel was standing innocently a few yards away. An upturned table nearly concealed it completely from view, and its hands entirely covered its face as though it were mourning the rampant destruction. Even if Sting hadn't shared any information about it and the rest of its kind, its presence was suspicious in and of itself: There were no statues at the North Pole of either wood, stone or any other material, as the workshop's proprietor had no major interest in such items.

Jack was backing away from it and thinking about freezing it to the floor, when several loud noises rang out from the other side of the room. A feminine shriek, followed immediately by a heavy thud, a small explosion, and a short outburst in a foreign language (Yiddish, or possibly Hebrew) that ended in a pained gasp. Sting was in trouble. Jack promptly turned to go to her aid and caught a glimpse of another Angel in the process; only this one's hands were down by its sides and its face was the flawless picture of tranquility. Right as he was diving over the rail of the balcony, he was seized roughly. He twisted his head around and found himself in the grasp of the first Angel. Sting had said they were "insanely fast" but this was almost beyond insane – it had crossed over approximately ten feet in less than a second.

The Angel was gripping him by the shoulder of his hoodie and his opposite upper arm. Its face (now that he could see it) was as serene as the other one but also displeased. Jack was understandably startled, but a twist of his staff resulted in a layer of ice coating the statues forearms. Sensing movement in the corner of his eye, he turned his head and saw the second Angel was now uncomfortably close. A cracking sound revealed that the first Angel was attempting to reposition its hands, but was being hindered by the ice. This was what Jack had been waiting for and he jerked free – only to be met with a hard blow to the solar plexus when he stumbled past the second Angel. At the same moment, his staff was brutally twisted away. He whirled around with the intent of getting it back, but was met with a horrible shock.

While Sting had wisely revealed The Angels astounding speed, what she'd failed to mention was their faces. The one that was now inches from Jack own was no longer serene and peaceful, but demonic. Its gaping mouth was filled with vampiric fangs and its expression was one of unadulterated cruelty and aggression. It was so shockingly horrible that Jack let out a terrified scream of his own. He couldn't help it. He staggered back a few paces and noticed (too late) that the first Angel had disappeared, and with it his staff. A squeak caught his attention and when he turned his head, he saw Baba perched on the balcony rail staring hard at the Angel and giving Jack the opportunity to run. Jack turned to do so, but was met with his own staff swinging from behind a table at a skull-cracking pace. He bent backwards to avoid it, and instead of connecting with his cranium the staff collided with an overturned shelf. It hit with such fury that it broke into two pieces. Jack cried out in pain, lost his balance and collapsed in a heap.

After a moment, he coughed and sat up. Baba, who'd lost sight of his Angel when he heard Jack's cry, skittered over to him, crawled up to his shoulder, and squeaked urgently for him to get up and flee. Jack picked up the top half of his broken staff (the Angel that had swung it at him still had the other half) and did exactly that. He hadn't gotten far when he collided with something that was too small to be a table or shelf and too soft to be another Angel. For a moment, a pair of disembodied purple and grey eyes stared out the darkness before Sting's face and body materialized around them. Baba promptly jumped over to her shoulder.

"Well, did anything interesting happen?" Her voice was mostly sarcastic, but a touch of true concern showed through. Something "interesting" had certainly happened to her, for one eyelid was a darker color than the other and seemed to be swollen. At that moment, she noticed his busted staff.

"Oh _no they_ _didn't!_ "

"Did you find anyone?" Jack enquired. His eyes darted back and forth, watching for anything hostile over her shoulders. Sting's eyes were doing the same with him.

"Besides creepy statues that we were conveniently discussing beforehand that also seem to be out for my blood?" She revealed a bloody gash on her forearm and smirked ruefully at her own pun. "Nope. Let's bail and come up with a new plan."

"No, I can't leave without North."

"Myyy earz are burning . . ." A hoarse voice spoke from behind them. They turned and saw a large hand poking up from between two overturned shelves. Sting gently dropped Baba on the ground.

"Keep watch." She wasn't sure of the Angels current position, but they were undoubtedly close by. She and Jack went to work and began to shove the shelves aside, revealing a huge man with a long white beard wearing loose brown pants, black boots, and a crimson shirt.

"Ay!" The man put his hand to his head when the shelves had struck him and knocked him out. "Ah! Jack!" He boomed. His warm voice was laced with a Russian accent. "Good to see you! Who iz your friend?" Then, he noticed the surrounding chaos. " _Shostacovich_! Vhat happened?!"

"We'll explain later." Sting grabbed his arm, and pulled him forwards – only to reveal an Angel directly behind him. Her eyes turned completely grey, but other than that she gave no outward sign of fear. A flick of her wrist was all that was needed to blast the statue into a pile of rubble.

" _Now_ can we bail?" She bobbed her head at the older man. "I think we're good here."

"Yeah, let's go."

Sting scooped up Baba and dove over the rail, pulling the man with her. Jack brought up the rear. A Nightmare tried to take advantage of his seeming vulnerability and charged him out of the darkness, but he clubbed it with his staff before pitching himself after Sting. It took her a moment to realize that he couldn't fly while his staff was in multiple pieces, but when she did she formed her energy into a large flat panel to catch him. Jack looked up and saw she was supporting North in the same way. She dropped them off in the rectangle of light on the lower balcony then turned to shoot back up to the scene of crime, but froze as a vaguely familiar voice resonated though the room.

"They remember you."

"Come again?" Several somethings were swishing in the darkness, louder than they had been earlier. It sounded like heavy sacks were being dragged across the floor.

"They really wanted you to know that they remember you. Uh, I guess you've met them before? They also want you to know that they haven't forgiven you."

"Do I know you?" Sting knew in the back of her mind that this new Voice was stalling for time, and considered blowing a hole in the wall to let additional light in. Then Baba squeaked the Voice's name into her ear, and she forgot everything else.

It was Kyle's voice. The louse who had cussed out a bunch of kids for accidentally hitting him with a stray snowball; the unfortunate soul who she and Jack had found lying murdered in his backyard. But, then this couldn't possibly be his voice . . . could it?

"Call me crazy," This was rather ironic for Sting was known to wear labels like _crazy_ and _dangerous_ like badges of honor, "but I thought you'd been killed."

"I was."

" _What?!_ "

"They snapped my neck so they could use my voice. They don't have voices of their own, y'see? And they really needed to communicate."

"With _who_?"

Pitch's voice echoed though the chamber. "With me."

* * *

 **Yeah, this was a wee bit on the morbid side. Sorry about that.**

 **And sorry if North's voice seems strange, I'm still getting the hang of writing in a Russian accent.**

 **BTW, the "Old Guy" who told Sting important info like** ** _don't-look-in-the-eyes_** **and** ** _that-which-holds-the-image-of-an-Angel_** **is the "Madman" that River Song references in the episode "The Time of Angels." Apparently, he took Sting's advice and compiled everything he knew about the Angels into the book that River eventually gives to the 11** **th** **Doctor.** **?** **Timey-Wimey, right?**

 **Originally, this chapter was going to be longer, but I decided to break it up into more manageable chunks. Next chapter may be shorter, so I may be able to post it earlier.**

 **Finally, for those unfamiliar with the term "Mashugana," it basically means "Craziness" in Yiddish.**


	5. Chapter 4

**Yeah, sorry for the late posts. Again.**

 **General notice: When I have time, I will be reviewing previous chapters (fixing typos and such) and re-submitting them.**

 _Winds in the East, mist comin' in._

 _Like something is brewing and 'bout to begin._

 _Can't put me finger on what lies in store,_

 _but I feel what's to 'appen all 'appened before._

 _ **Bert; Mary Poppins**_

* * *

"You, _again_?!" The contempt in Sting's voice was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.

The enormous shadow of Pitch's hand momentarily blotted out the light from the skylight and passed over the still-burning fireplace. The fire immediately puffed, and went out. Sting's contempt flickered to amazement.

"Hey, wow! I didn't know you could do that!"

"Stay focused!" Reminded the old man.

"Oh, yeah." She turned her attention back to the matter at hand.

"What did you offer them to make then cooperate?" She motioned to the Angels. "What do _you_ get out of this?"

Pitch's voice was as smooth as grease on a waxed floor. "Let's simply say that it was a mutually beneficial deal."

"Sting!" Called Jack. She turned, and the old man threw her a light-up baton that had been found on the floor. The Angels had disabled it, but the old man – as its designer – had easily reactivated it. As soon as Sting's fingers wrapped around it, the baton blazed up and glowed ever brighter. She hurled it at the balcony directly above her. For a few brief moments, Pitch was clearly visible in the light along with the unmistakable figures of seven Weeping Angels. One of them had cracks all over its body, as though it had been shattered and pieced back together again. Three others were toting large sacks. But the one that drew Sting's eye was the one standing closest to Pitch. In its hand was a broken stick – the other half of Jack's staff. One of Pitch's hands held a perfectly round glass ball, and in the instant before he snuffed out the light from the baton Sting heard the old man give an affronted gasp from behind her.

"My snow globes!"

As soon as the light was out, there was a sound of breaking glass, and a swirling, colorful portal opened directly behind where Pitch had been standing. Sting turned invisible and darted forwards. Pitch had already disappeared through the portal by the time she got up there, but she blasted the Angel with Jack's staff into a pile of rubble right as it was halfway through and snatched up her prize. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to do much else before two nightmares barreled into her from out of the portal, slamming her against the balcony rail and causing her to lose her invisibility. Baba had hidden himself in Sting's pocket, but as he tried to crawl out he lost his balance and tumbled into the abyss beyond the railing with a shocked squeal.

"Baba!" She wheezed.

The Nightmares tried to mush her into the floor with their front hooves, but she threw up a force-field and pushed them back. They immediately fled back into the portal, which closed behind them. The Angels, obviously, were long gone. Sting gasped for air, picked herself up, and flew back across to where Jack and the old man where waiting. Baba was already there ahead of her.

"There you are! You had me worried." The rat rolled his eyes in mock exasperation as Sting picked him up and settled him on her shoulder.

"Vhere did he come from?" asked the old man.

"Uh . . . with me?"

"No, no, he appeared on rail. Out of nowhere."

"Ah, that. Baba can teleport; he can go instantly from one place to another." She cleared her throat and passed the other half of Jack's staff to him. "Here you go."

Jack's face lit up as he grabbed it back. "Thanks!"

"Still broken. Is there any glue-" She broke off as Jack took the broken ends of his staff and pressed them together. A blue light flashed from between the pieces, and in less than half a minute the staff was whole again. He sighed in relief.

Sting's eyes widened as she whistled in admiration. "Never mind then." She turned her attention back to the old man. "I'm Sting, by the way. What should I call you?"

"I am Nicholas St. North; simply North to my friends."

"Nice! Nicholas St. North is a way better name than Santa Claus."

While they were speaking, several large furry creatures had appeared and were now beginning the process of setting the Workshop to rights. One of them came over to North and began to grunt to him in a strange language. Sting took off her mask and flipped her hood back revealing a thin, but attractive face, and a wild mass of neon red hair. Her left eye was crowned in a beautiful shiner, but the discoloration was fading fast. Jack tried not to stare, but it was difficult. He felt as if he'd met Sting somewhere before, and wondered briefly if that hair would glow in the dark.

Sting waited for North to finish before asking "How soon can we go after Pitch?"

North sighed. "It seems Pitch has stolen all my snow globes. Ve must vait until more can be made." Sting pressed her lips together and fumed without speaking. Jack impatiently thumped his staff. North turned to face them and eyed Sting questionably. "It von't take long. But, who are you exactly?"

"Someone who knows quite a lot about the Angels that were helping Pitch. I met Jack a few hours ago, and when he was coming here I made him bring me with him." North looked at Jack who shrugged as if to say 'Hey, I don't know much more about her than you.'

Meanwhile, the furry creatures had been moving about, lighting torches and placing them in various outlets on the walls. Sting stuck her hands in her pockets and wandered away from the other two, admiring the workshop now that she could see it. A twist of her head confirmed that Jack and North were watching her curiously, so she bent her knees and jumped fifteen feet over to the fireplace which still hadn't been relit. There, she raised her hand and fired a short, but intense, beam from her fingers. The logs in the fireplace jumped and burst into flame. Jack stared at her with surprise on his face; North, with a mix of surprise and annoyance. If either of them had any doubt that Sting enjoyed showing off her abilities, that doubt was now gone.

"If I may I azk," North paused, and Sting nodded in consent, "where did a human learn to fly? Where did theze powers come from?"

"I was born with them – but they didn't manifest until I was seven years old." She thought it prudent not to mention the traumatic circumstances that had triggered this manifestation. North looked as though he still wanted more information. "See, I'm a mutant. I have an extra gene that most humans don't have which allows me to generate energy and manipulate it almost any way I want." She held up her hand and formed a small sphere as a demonstration. "As for learning how to fly, and controlling my powers, I taught myself."

"Really?" Asked Jack. "That's what I did!"

Sting's face lit up. "How was it? I gave myself a solid week of vertigo." She snorted. "Couldn't stand up without falling over." The three of them had been moving towards each other and now stood only a few feet apart.

Jack winced. "Ouch. That didn't happen with me, but it did take the first fifty years to get good. Why do you call yourself Sting?"

"That might be my real name, for all you know. Naw, I'm kidding." She dissolved the sphere and sent a small beam of energy to zap him on the hand. Jack yelped and flapped the aggrieved body part.

"Hey!" He said indignantly. "That really . . ." He paused. ". . . stings."

North nodded thoughtfully. "Makez zense."

A loud crash sounded from behind him and Jack. One of the large furry creatures let out a string of frustrated gibberish. North groaned and hurried off in the direction of the noise, stopping briefly to turn around.

"Don't cause any trouble!"

Sting pretended to look hurt. "Us? Cause trouble?"

Jack pulled his best kicked-puppy face. "Why would we ever do that?"

North shot them one final glare and hurried off. As soon as he was out of earshot Sting turned to Jack.

"I'm tempted to ask, "What should we blow up first?" but this place is already beat up enough as it is. What are those big, furry guys called?"

"Yetis."

"Seriously? Real yetis? What are they, bodyguards?"

"No, actually they make the toys."

"Really? What about the elves?"

Something short, wearing a tall red cap, toddled towards them. Jack waved his staff at it and froze it to the ground.

"Mostly, they just get in the way." He whispered in a confidential tone.

Sting shook her head and sighed. "Well, there goes a chuck of my childhood."

Jack sniggered and turned towards the fireplace. When he turned back around Sting was holding a small digital camera.

"Where'd you get that?"

"I had Baba zip it to me from my room - not everyone can say they've been to Santa's workshop, and I want proof." She raised the device and aimed it towards him. "Smile!"

The shutter clicked, and Sting had a fine picture of an undamaged corner of the workshop with Jack smiling his most attractive smile in the foreground.

"Groovy!" She showed Jack, then passed the camera back to Baba. "Thanks, Buddy!" Baba took the camera, vanished, and returned without it a few seconds later.

"How does he do that?"

"I think he can dematerialize his molecules and reassemble them wherever he wants to be."

"Where'd he learn that?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I found him on the street when I was ten and took him in. I suspect he used to be a lab rat." Baba wilted at these words, and she stroked his fur soothingly. "He doesn't like to talk about it." She paused and frowned slightly. "The first fifty years?"

"Huh?"

"You said it took you the _first_ _fifty_ years to get the hang of flying. How old _are_ you?"

"About 300 years old."

Sting raised her eyebrows. "Holy Moses, you sure look good for your age."

"Thanks."

"So, then, how'd you get _your_ powers? Were you born with them? And where did you score the immortality?" She added in a lighthearted tone, "Not that I'm asking for myself, I've got three older brothers and a best friend who might want to know."

Jack didn't feel comfortable with telling her, but it would have been awkward to not to after the information she'd shared about herself. He would have been surprised to know that Sting wasn't usually so willing to share information concerning herself or her companion with people she'd recently met. Until she got to know someone really well, most of the personal questions they asked would be answered with " _That's for me to know and you to find out_ " or " _Now what fun would it be if I told you_ everything _right now?_ " or " _It's the magic of my fabulousness_ " or something equally indirect.

"Um, about 300 years ago I took my little sister to a frozen pond to go ice-skating. Only the ice was too thin, and while I was able to save _her_ from falling through . . . I wasn't as lucky." He had been awkwardly looking at the ground as he spoke but now he lifted his head towards Sting, desperately hoping she would ask him to elaborate on what happened next.

She didn't. In fact, she didn't even ask any of the thousand questions rampaging through her brain. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open slightly while her mind tried to process what her ears had just heard.

"Okay, well THAT was _way_ more macabre than what I was originally expecting." She took a deep breath and looked up. "Say, what are all those lights on the globe for?"

Jack was relieved at this deliberate change of topic. "They're kids. Kids who believe in us. The Guardians." He clarified.

Sting glanced back at enormous "G" in the middle of the rug they were standing on. "G for Guardians! Guardians of what?"

He smiled fondly. "Of Childhood. We protect children all over the world."

"That's _amazing_!" Her eyes turned orange as her interest was aroused. "How do you decide who gets to be a Guardian? Do you take a vote?"

"No, the Moon tells us who to choose."

Sting wasn't sure if she had heard correctly. "The . . . _Moon_?" She exchanged a look with Baba. "You do know the Moon is a rock, right?"

Jack immediately saw where her confusion lay, and was about to clarify that it wasn't the Moon itself but the Man who lived _in_ the Moon, when the ground at their feet caved in and a massive red flower with its petals tightly closed bloomed out of the stone.

"Whoa!"

" _Oy vey!_ What the heck is that?" She poked it cautiously.

"I don't know, but it's probably from Bunny." He bent over and laid his fingers on it, and immediately it sprang open, releasing a small atomic bombs worth of brightly colored powder. Sting yowled and tried to shield her face.

"Trouble at the Warren." Said Jack when the brief onslaught had ended. "We need to tell North."

He took off for the balcony rail and dove over. Sting shot after him. She followed him down three stories, then pushed past him when she heard North's voice coming from behind a door. Pulse pounding with anticipation of another battle, she flung open the door and announced:

"The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!"

Her brothers and best friends would have immediately understood this Lord of the Rings reference and sprung into action, but here the only reactions she received were confused looks – not only from Jack and North, but from the Yetis inside and outside the room.

Finally, Jack translated. "Trouble at the Warren."

"AH-HA!" Roared North. Then he raised an eyebrow at Sting. "Vhy didn't you zay so?"

"I'm not sure she was speaking English." Jack kidded.

Sting glowered and stuck her tongue out at him.

Two yetis brought North a thick red and black coat, a black fur hat and two machetes which he stuck in his belt. A new batch of snow globes had been finished, so in less than ten minutes since Pitch and the Angels had left the Workshop, North, Jack, and Sting were on their way.

"By the way," Sting murmured to North as they ran (well, _he_ ran, she hovered beside him) "I wrote you a letter when I was nine asking you for a genuine lightsaber. Did you ever get it?"

"You azk me this now?!" There was no time for an answer as he pushed open two large wooden doors and led them into the beginning of a long icy tunnel. Sting considered temporarily abandoning the others and shooting herself thought the passageway like a bullet from a rifle, but changed her mind when a second set of doors was pulled back to reveal a hot-rod of a sleigh pulled by six reindeer. Jack grabbed her arm and excitedly pulled her after him as he bounded in the back. North climbed into the front and took the reins.

"Are we ready?" He called. The reindeer pawed the ground in anticipation.

"Tally ho!" Sting hollered in response. North slapped the reins, and they were off like a rocket. Sting's feet promptly lost their traction and she thudded into the back of the sleigh. They accelerated at an impressive pace, passing some type of control tower, and spinning in a loop-de-loop before shooting off a wooden ramp and hurling into the sky.

"BLASTOFF!" North shouted. Jack and Sting, who'd been whooping like maniacs the entire way down the tunnel, leaned out to watch the Workshop fade into the distance. It seemed a lot less oppressing now that most of the windows were lit up. North took a snow globe out of his coat and spoke into it.

"Bunny's Warren." He threw the globe ahead of the sleigh and, exactly like when Pitch had done it, it burst into a fizzing mass of swirling colors.

* * *

 **Not entirely sure how good my Russian accent is. I can** ** _speak_** **a decent Russian accent, but writing it is something else altogether.**


	6. Chapter 5

**Declaimer for the last chapter: The way Bunny signals the other Guardians for help was my own creation. I assumed that each Guardian would have a way to let the others know they were in trouble, but it never really comes up in the books or the movie, so I just picked out the most Easter-y/Spring-y thing I could think of and made it explode.**

 **This story will feature elements from the books** ** _The Guardians of Childhood_** **.**

 **For future reference: In Marvel Comics the Sandman is the name of a villain who can turn his body to sand.**

 **Also, feel free to point out any plot holes. I want this story to be believable.**

 _"_ _Don't blink. Don't even blink. Blink and you're dead. They are fast – faster than you can believe. Don't turn your back, don't look away, and_ _don't blink._ _Good luck."_

 ** _The 10_** ** _th_** ** _Doctor; Blink_**

* * *

E. Aster Bunnymund, known by some as the Easter Bunny, has seen a lot of weird stuff in the thousand plus years he'd been alive. (Of course, he'd helped to invent some of that weird stuff.) But nothing could have prepared the last of the Pookas for the chaos that was currently erupting around him. He desperately hoped the other Guardians would get here soon.

* * *

 _"What other Guardians are there?"_ _Sting spoke quickly to get the words out in time as North's sleigh barreled through the portal._

 _"There's Bunny, Tooth, Sandy-" Jack's voice paused as they exited the magic tunnel over a beautiful lush, green landscape that would have been much prettier if it weren't for the rampant chaos, rampaging shadows, and the thoughts of murderous statues waiting to sneak up on you from behind._

 _He raised his staff and prepared to do battle. "I'll tell you later!" He shouted._

 _"Sounds good!" She pulled up her hood and mask, and made a quick assessment of her surroundings, then jumped out of the sleigh and shouted the catchphrase of a dear friend with whom she had once explored the universe._

 _"ALLONS-Y!"_

* * *

Almost one year ago, Pitch had attempted to ruin Easter by attacking the Warren and destroying every last Easter Egg. Bunny had been devastated, and rightly so. But now, that memory seemed like a happy dream in comparison to what was happening now. It was less than two weeks before Easter, and not only had all the eggs been smashed into oblivion, but all the flowers - including the ones that produced the eggs, and the ones that dusted the eggs with colored powder - had been pulled up by the roots. Not to mention that all the trees had massive gashes in their trunks and numerous broken branches. Not even the rocky architecture or the purple tie-dye stream had been spared. And on top of that, the huge stone eggs that were supposed to be the protectors of the Warren were almost completely useless against the invaders. Two of them had been cracked and shattered into pieces by the strange Angel Statues that didn't behave anything like any statues he'd ever seen. And it was all he could do to defend himself from the _bloody_ Nightmares that were everywhere. And right when he thought the insanity had reached its peak, he looked up.

Bunny had seen a lot weird stuff in the thousand plus years he'd been alive. However, a teenage girl bronco-busting on a Nightmare while howling "YIPPEE-KI-YAY!" was something new altogether. The Nightmare bucked and twisted as it raced through the air, trying to relieve itself of its unwanted passenger. In a last-ditch effort, it turned sharply towards the ground. A flash of light erupted from the girl's hand and the Nightmare vaporized into black dust. The girl landed lightly on her feet about four feet from Bunny.

"Hullo!" She said brightly. A slim, blue-eyed, white rat on her shoulder pricked up his ears, sniffed enquiringly at Bunny's 7-foot form, and cautiously eyeballed the boomerangs clutched in each paw. "You must be the Easter Bunny." She continued. "I'm Sting, and I'm one of the most fabulous people you're ever gonna meet. I'm here to help out." Her tone wasn't snotty as though she were bestowing some great honor upon him, nor was it bored as though she were here to fulfill an obligation. It was cheerfully, politely neutral as though what she was saying was simply an indisputable fact of the universe. Without warning, she raised her hand, and the golden beam that shot from it missed Bunny by three inches and vaporized the shadowy figure standing right behind him. Bunny flinched away.

"What the bloody-!"

"Bunny!" North appeared with a sword in each hand, skillfully fighting his way through the swirling blackness. Bunny turned back to the girl only to find she was standing directly in front of him.

"Okay, listen up." She looked seriously between him and North. "Weeping Angel crash course: Keep them in sight as much as you can, don't look in their eyes, and don't capture their images. No blinking, no eye contact, and no taking their picture, got it?"

"Huh?"

"Vhat?"

"Alrighty, let's roll out!" The girl sprang into the air and disappeared.

Sting's mind worked like a disco ball: Constantly moving, lightly touching several thoughts at the same time as she passed over them, eventually coming around again to touch them over and over. This was why she often thought of random things at unexplainable times and why she was easily distracted. But it also allowed to ponder about the other Guardians Jack had mentioned while she fought.

 _"Bunny" as in the "Easter Bunny" was an easy connection to make._ She turned invisible, blasted three Nightmares in rapid succession, resumed visibility, and sprung off a moss-covered, rock wall before dodging another Nightmare. The spectral figure missed its target completely and obliterated itself on the wall she had just left.

 _"Now, Tooth?" Probably the Tooth Fairy._ A humanoid, black thing with golden eyes and incredibly long fingers slammed into her and pushed her with alarming speed towards the ground. She turned invisible again, twisted to loosen its grip, and blasted it with both hands. Unfortunately, her hands were at a wonky angle and the attempt didn't do as much damage as she'd hoped, so she gave it a good kick in the face. That finally got it to let go. But when she flipped to land on her feet she had to struggle to keep her balance. This particular area of the landscape was dotted in a series of large, mossy rocks that weren't more than a foot apart from one another at the widest, and one of her feet had landed exactly on a curved edge while the other swung wildly around.

 _Lousy landscape. What idiot designed this?_ Right when she regained her balance, two scrawny hands wrapped around her neck from behind and pulled her backwards. She gasped and let out a curse in Yiddish. It was another one of those creatures. As she struggled, she noticed North busy reducing spectral creatures to piles of dust. _Wow, look at him go. He fights like a guy half his age._ The hands around her neck tightened reminding her of her current predicament, but in response to her thoughts her energy surged and boiled under the skin of her neck. The creature howled in pain and let her go. Sting backhanded it and managed to catch herself from falling, but sprained her ankle in the process of trying to step onto a neighboring rock.

 _Darn it!_ The two shadow creatures lunged at her, but she disappeared and ended them with a quick blast from each hand. _Sandy. Sandy. Now, who is Sandy? Sand, Sand-person, Sandguy, Sand . . . man! Of course! I teased the Sandman once by calling him "Sandy!" And the mythical Sandman gives people good dreams which would make him the ultimate rival against Pitch and his Nightmares!_

The ticklish part in all this deduction was that Sting had ceased to believe in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny years ago. (Her opinion on the Sandman had been hanging in the balance until recently.) Reasoning out their identities was important because she'd otherwise never be able to interact with them. And sure enough, there they were. A brilliantly colored bird-woman swooped overhead and not far away was a short, golden man with spiky golden hair standing on a golden cloud expertly wielding a pair of golden whips against Pitch's forces, oblivious to the Angel standing a few feet behind, and almost directly beneath him.

"Hey, Indiana Jones! Watch yourself!" The golden man spun in the opposite direction and materialized a shield right in time to block a black arrow from Pitch that would have hit him in the back. Sting's mouth fell open – she'd only intended to alert him to the presence of the Angel but instead she'd saved him from a grisly fate. A blast of what looked like icy lightning implied that Jack had noticed the assassination attempt as well. The force of the arrow knocked the golden man off his cloud, but he caught himself before he hit the ground by floating in the air like a balloon. That is, until the Angel caught hold of him from behind. He tried to twist away but was unable to escape until Sting reduced the statue into a network of rocky chunks before it could cause any severe damage.

"Are you okay?" She asked as she came over.

The man nodded and looked at her curiously.

"You must be the Sandman, right? I'm Sting." The Sandman floated a little higher so that they could be eye-to-eye. "The statue behind you is called a Weeping Angel. There are about seven total of them scattered around here, and they're all working with Pitch. If you see one, keep it in sight as much as you can, but don't make eye contact and don't take their picture." Sandy nodded doggedly, trusting that Sting would explain herself soon, and didn't look confused in the least. Sting was impressed by his attitude.

"Yeah, I'm going to like you." Sandy raised his eyebrows, then abruptly pushed Sting out of the way as his whip lashed out and snared another Nightmare.

"Thanks!" Sandy nodded in response, then Sting peeled away and became invisible. She was hunting for someone in particular. It didn't take long to find him, and Pitch, who had just managed to slip away from Jack, barely knew what hit him when she shaped her energy into a hollow sphere and punched him in the face with it.

"I suspected you were low." She snarled as she became visible. "But shooting in the back is about as dirty as you can get."

"And sneaking up on someone is somehow more honorable?" He sneered.

"I hit you from the _front_. There's a difference." She clubbed him a second, and third, time, knocking him onto his back.

"You don't stand a chance when the Angels find out you're using them."

Pitch struggled to his feet. "That's hardly likely."

"Really? The only places you've attacked are the bases of _your_ enemies. They're bound to figure it out eventually."

"Like I said: Our deal was mutually beneficial. We help each other achieve our goals."

Pitch formed his Nightmare sand into a long handled-scythe and swung viciously it at her. Sting dogged the first swing, and returned fire. Pitch block her blast and swung at her again. This time Sting turned invisible, bounced over the weapon, and resumed visibility, making it appear as though she hadn't moved from her spot at all. Pitch hesitated in confusion and Sting blasted him in the chest. Pitch almost fell off the boulder they'd been dueling on, but Sting grabbed him by his robe and pulled him up.

"I don't believe you. What could the Angels _possibly_ want that _you_ could help them with?" She growled mockingly.

Pitch spat out a tooth and leered. "They want to bring the world into an age of eternal darkness. And with me helping them, they'll be able to do it. We will bring about a new Dark Age, and eventually, we will grow powerful enough to switch off the sun itself."

Sting's expression didn't change, but her eyes turned purple. Pitch realized with a slight shock that she'd been manipulating him for information, having guessed that direct questions would probably receive ambiguous answers. Nevertheless, the evidence gathering had not been one-sided - he'd observed her stance and had noticed how she favored her right leg. So, her left ankle was where he aimed when he kicked out hard with his foot. The hunch paid off: Sting let out a strangled squawk, and released him. Pitch soon had a rope of Nightmare sand looped around that leg, and when he jerked upwards Sting's feet flew into the air. She landed hard on her back, and by the time the stars had cleared from her vision he had slithered down the side of the boulder and vanished into the shadows.

"You creep!" She roared after him as she sat up. She scanned the area, but there wasn't an Angel to be seen. In fact, all of Pitch's forces, having accomplished their mission of crippling the Warren, were now retreating at a dynamic pace, and even as she pushed off the rock they had almost completely disappeared. The bird woman from earlier darted after a single straggling Nightmare and ended it with one flex of her razor-sharp wings. Sting spotted Jack perched on the edge of another boulder and headed towards him.

"Well, _that_ probably could have a lot better."

He shrugged in response and dropped to the ground.

"What happened to your ankle?" He asked when he noticed how gingerly she alighted next to him.

"Sprained it, but give it two minutes and it'll be fine. Now look at _you_ on the other hand. Not one hair out of place." She sighed jealously and wiped her forehead. "Do you _ever_ get hurt?" Jack smiled. The battle had been no picnic, even for him, but he looked the same as when they had first arrived. Sting herself didn't look as beat up she imagined. Her black eye was almost completely healed, and her other injuries consisted of a few bruises (which were hidden beneath her costume), and her twisted ankle which was only noticeable when she limped. Eventually, she gave up trying to walk and settled on hovering a few inches above the ground.

The other Guardians were gathered around Bunny, who was in in state of considerable distress. As Sting and Jack approached, his voice became audible.

"I won't be able to recover from this disaster in time for Easter. It's just like last year. Easter . . . is ruined." His trembling voice broke on the last word. Sting's eyes turned blue as she bit her lip. Baba guessed what she was thinking and firmly shook his head at her while his ears laid flat back on his skull.

"I know, I know." She hissed. "But listen to how crushed he is. I can't just say 'Let's go fight Pitch now and I'll get back to you when I have time.'"

The rat squeaked something that translated to "You _should_ do it later! Save your strength – this is a _terrible_ idea!"

"When this is over, I may not have enough energy to pull it off! It's now or never."

Baba grumbled something about how she used that phrase way too much then grudgingly gave in. Sting followed Jack as they approached the group.

"Um, excuse me." Everyone turned towards her, and Sting addressed Bunny. "I just need to know, short of being hit by an Atomic bomb, could this-" she motioned around them "-get any worse?"

Bunny shook his head. "This is the worst thing that's ever happened."

Sting's face brightened considerably. "Good. 'Cause, I'm not entirely sure this is going to work." She rubbed her hands together enthusiastically, then squatted down and placed her palms flat on the ground. "Although, to be honest, I've always wanted to try this."

Bunny's anguish turned to alarm. "Try this? Try _what_?! Ya mean you've never done this befo-"

"Shhh!" Sting's hands were starting to glow. "Okay, here we go. If I pass out, please don't let me hit my head on a rock."

"Sting," Said Jack. "What-"

He broke off as Sting released most of her energy into the ground and willed it to remake, not destroy. A golden ring bubbled around her and spread out in every direction healing everything it touched. The Guardians all felt a brief pulse of power it passed under them, but that was nothing compared to what it was doing to the Warren. Every blade of grass sprouted an extra inch, damaged flowers regrew damaged petals and leaves, flowers that had been completely torn out grew in anew, and trees budded new branches at an astounding rate. Seconds later, new Easter Eggs were scampering about. Everyone was still staring with a gaping mouth when a soft thump was heard. Turning, they found that Sting had indeed collapsed into the grass. The Guardians knelt around her, and after a few seconds she opened her eyes.

"Did it work?"

Bunny looked around again as though he couldn't quite believe what had happened. "Yeah, it worked. I-I've never seen anything like it."

"How did you do that?" Asked the bird-woman.

"What can I say? I'm talented. By the way, I don't think we've met. I'm Sting."

"I'm Toothiana."

"Yeah, the Tooth Fairy, right? Gotta say, you're gorgeous." Tooth blushed modestly as Sting looked at Bunny. "And you're totally more impressive than all the stories I heard about you growing up. Who knew the Easter Bunny used boomerangs?" Her eyes drifted absently back to Tooth. Then she squinted.

"Are those, like, hummingbirds?"

"They're my fairies. They help me collect teeth from the children."

"Huh. I always wondered how that worked out." One of the tiny creatures flew closer to Sting. She was about three inches tall and, except for a long beak-like nose, almost a spitting image of Tooth. Tooth herself, like her fairies, was covered in fine blue and green feathers, with gold feathers at her ears, wrists, and ankles, giving the appearance of earrings, bracelets, and anklets. Several pairs of insect-like wings held her aloft, and the jerky, excited way she moved reminded Sting of a Hummingbird.

North cleared his throat. "Vhy did you not do this at my Workshop?"

"Because instead of repairing everything, I would have torn it all apart. My energy can only heal living or organic matter, so your Workshop would have disappeared in fiery inferno. You'll notice that the damaged rocks 'n stuff around us has not changed." She exhaled and closed her eyes, but a second later they shot open as she sat bolt upright and screamed "SALEM!" The Guardians recoiled. "Sorry, ignore that." She almost passed out again from sitting up so quickly, but Sandy put a hand at her back to keep her upright.

"Thank you." She looked around. "We should probably go soon. I may have an idea about where Pitch and the Angels are going next."

"Yeah, the Angels." Snorted Bunny.

Tooth looked mildly disturbed at the mere mention of the Angels. "What _were_ those creatures?"

Everyone looked expectantly as Sting.

"I'll tell you in a minute, but first, I need to know: what are the humanoid Nightmares thingies?"

A twisted, misshapen, figure appeared over Sandy's head in golden Dreamsand.

"Yeah, yeah, that thing. What is it?"

"Fearlings," Said North. "Zey are more dangerous than Nightmares, but less harmful than Nightmare Men."

"Nightmare _Men?_ Oh, _that's_ just peachy! Anything else I should know?"

"Pitch feeds off fear, so the more afraid you are the stronger he gets." North explained hastily. "Now, tell us about Angels."

Fine, but can we head towards the sleigh while we talk?"

Bunny easily pulled her to her feet, and they set off.

"Alright, listen carefully because I'm only going to go over this once. The Weeping Angels are creatures from another world and they are nearly as old as the universe. They are telepathically linked, so any information that becomes available to one will immediately become available to the others. They have enhanced strength, so a wall, or a closed door, is not necessarily going to stop them. Clear so far?" Everyone nodded. "Good, because this is where it gets complicated. The Angels have a unique condition: They are Quantum Locked, which means in the sight of any living creature they freeze and turn to stone." She paused to give her next words extra weight. "And you can't kill a stone, can you?"

Bunny snorted. "Watch me." A picture of a large mallet appeared over Sandy's head.

"Yez, Sandy." Agreed North. "With a hammer-"

"Or a chisel." Suggested Jack. But Sting shook her head.

"No, that how to _break_ a stone, not how to _kill_ it."

An awkward silence elapsed.

"But," Tooth finally said. "You can't kill a stone because it isn't . . ."

"Alive." Jack finished.

Sting nodded deeply. "That's the beauty of the Quantum Lock. They don't exist when they're being observed. The power is in their images, and if they're strong enough, it's no trouble at all to repair any damage done to those images. The good news is, their greatest strength is their greatest weakness. They can never be seen, not even by each other. That's why they always cover their eyes – they're not really weeping, they just can't risk seeing one another."

"Wait, wait." Said Bunny. "Are you saying they can't be killed?"

By this time, they had reached North's sleigh.

"Oh, sure they can. I think. I mean, it's unlikely they'd survive being thrown into a supernova, right?"

Nobody looked very cheered by this statement.

"Vhere did you say they vere going?" Asked North.

"I'm not entirely sure. But, if _I_ wanted to watch the world fall, the first place I'd hit would be SHIELD Headquarters.

* * *

 **"** **There is world of time energy in there that they could feast on forever, but the damage they could do could switch off the sun."**

 **The 10** **th** **Doctor; Blink**


	7. Chapter 6

**Howdy, Y'all! First off: Sorry for the long wait and thank you all for your patience. I have the rest of the plot for this story worked out in my head, only I started second-guessing myself and started wondering if it was too elaborate. On that note, if it is too elaborate please let me know and I'll trim it down. Also, if anyone has a request on how they'd like the story to turn out they can leave a message and I'll see if I can work it in. (No promises.) Anyway, I've decided to keep plowing forward with the plot I have in mind and to let the cards fall where they may.**

 **I want to say thank you to LunarMn for adding me to their favorites, and to the Guest who left me such a nice review. Both of these things mean a lot to me.**

 **General notice: I will be introducing a lot of Marvel characters. Not just from the TV shows, but from the movies, and from the comic books. I really love Marvel.** **Anyhow, if it gets overwhelming drop a comment and I'll . . . do something about it. If anyone's wondering, this story is listed as a ROTG/DW Crossover because that's where the primary antagonists originated.**

 **I think I forgot to mention this before, but the way the Angels typically deal with their victims (when they're not snapping necks) is to send them back in time so that they can feed on the potential energy of all the days that person might have lived. Just trying to keep thing clear for those who haven't seen the show in a while.**

 **On with the show!**

 _It's so frustrating when no one else sees everything you see. So, for now it is just an illusion, confusion, unless you're someone who believes."_

 ** _Believe; Finding Neverland_**

* * *

SHIELD Headquarters was truly an inspiring sight where it sat on the Theodore Roosevelt Island on the border of Washington DC - even at night when you couldn't see it that well. North's sleigh banked towards it as it came through the portal and landed on the roof.

"What's the official name for this place?" Jack wondered.

"The Triskelion." Sting answered as they walked towards the door. She pressed a button and a scanner came out and skimmed over her eye. The initials M. G. C. appeared briefly on a digital screen before they were replaced with the words:

STING

LEVEL 7

ACCESS GRANTED

"You work here?" Jack asked as they entered.

"Not really, I'm more of a consultant slash unofficial emergency field agent - I help with emergency situations that SHIELD can't get involved in."

They descended a flight of stairs and entered a hallway where lone bespectacled bald man was walking. When Sting greeted him, her voice became cool and detached.

"Hello, Agent Sitwell." Baba lowered his ears disapprovingly and crawled to Sting's opposite shoulder - away from the agent.

"Sting. What brings you here this time of night?"

"I need to talk to Director Fury immediately. Is he in?"

"No."

"Agent Hill?"

"No, but Secretary Pierce is in his office." Baba sniffed critically, and Sting pressed her lips together without meeting Sitwell's eyes. This was normal for her, so he wasn't surprised. When your eyes literally told everyone what you were feeling, visual contact could be dangerous.

"Alright, that works. Thank you." Sitwell brushed past her and continued down the hallway. The Guardians parted invisibly to make way for him. As he disappeared around a corner the lights flickered ominously.

"Pitch is here." North translated for Sandy.

"We'll take care of 'im, Shelia." Bunny said. "Go warn Pierce."

She nodded. "Alright. The stairs are that way."

* * *

Ten minutes later an announcement was broadcasted throughout the entire building.

"Howdy, y'all. Now, listen up because this is important. Some of you may be feeling rather confused. In fact, there's probably a handful of you staring at an Angel Statue that wasn't there five minutes ago. Step one is to keep looking at it – without looking at the eyes. They can't move if you can see them. Step two is to book the heck outta there as soon as possible. And, yes, I am 101 percent serious. These Angels are creatures from another world and they want to cripple the Triskelion. Actually, they want to bring down every Peacekeeping agency around the world, but they're starting here, under the cover of darkness, while there's only a relative handful of people. Don't try to take their pictures. If you capture their images, it will only increase their power. I've already instructed all technicians to kill the visual feeds. So, if you need help, you'll have to scream for it." She paused. "Final note: If an Angel hasn't moved from its spot since the last time you looked at it, it does not mean you're suddenly safe. It only means that someone else must be watching the Angel. So, take the advantage and as you do so, be sure to shout "thank-you" to whoever's helping you - even if you're not sure who it is. Credit where credit is due, after all."

She turned away from the microphone and found Secretary Pierce watching her shrewdly.

"You didn't bring anyone else inside, did you?"

SHIELD policy forbade the entry of non-authorized beings. If you didn't have clearance, you had no business being there. In fact, it was flat-out impossible for someone to enter illegally without alerting security. The Guardians had all breezed past the facial scanners, and simply by allowing them inside Sting was guilty of assisting intruders with illegal entry. She played innocent.

"That's ridiculous. They'd never make it through the door without the sensors picking them up and denying them access. Besides, why would I do that? I'm a one-woman show."

This wasn't exactly a denial and Pierce knew it, but he decided not to press the issue for the time being. There were more important things at stake. It hadn't been an easy feat to make him understand exactly what was happening without telling him about everyone else who was involved, and Sting had barely squeaked by with marginally satisfactory explanation. Pierce was sharp. But, telling him the whole truth was out of the question. If she told him that the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny were there to help fight the Boogeyman, he would have tranquilized her on the spot and shipped her off for a psychological evaluation. And even if she could convince him she wasn't completely crazy, he would have wanted the Guardians brought in for an interrogation – forcibly if need be.

* * *

Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, two of SHIELD top scientists, were working late in their lab when Sting's announcement came over the speakers.

"In fact, there's probably a handful of you staring at an Angel Statue that wasn't there five minutes ago. Step one is t–" The speakers cut off with a screech, and the lights flickered out.

Fitz looked around. "What just happened?"

Simmons's eyes flickered past his shoulder and she gasped in fear. "Fitz, look!"

Fitz turned and saw an Angel Statue standing less than five feet away. He quickly got to his feet.

"That must be what Sting was talking about." Simmons nodded nervously in agreement. "What did she say to do next?"

"I don't know." She whispered. "The speakers cut off."

Cautiously, slowly, they backed away from the Angel. Simmons's eyes wandered to the ceiling and she gasped a second time and tightened her grip on Fitz's shoulder. The speaker on the wall which had been broadcasting Sting's announcement to the room was disabled. Someone, or something, had shoved a computer monitor into it. Fitz took his eyes off the statue for the briefest of seconds to take in what had startled Simmons, but even that fleeting time was almost too much. When he looked back at the Angel its outstretched hand was inches from his face, and its teeth were bared in anger and hatred. The only barrier that had kept the creature from reaching them was a thick layer of ice welding its feet to the ground.

Simmons screamed, and Fitz stumbled back several paces before he regained his balance. Clutching each other, they still didn't dare to take their eyes off it a second time until a layer of frost spreading across a nearby section of wall caught their attention. And even though there didn't seem to be anybody there, letters began to appear in the frost, as though they were being written by an invisible hand.

R . . . U . . . N

 _RUN_

That was all the motivation they needed. Without giving a second though as to who had written the message, Fitz and Simmons turned and bolted for the door. A loud crack told them that the Angel was breaking though the ice, but by the time they stumbled into the hallway a fresh coating of frozen water had been applied, preventing it from following them past the doorway.

Fitz and Simmons rounded the corner of the hallway, in their mad dash to escape, and ran directly into Sting who had come to evacuate anyone from the labs who might be in harm's way.

"M!" Gasped Simmons. "I mean - Sting! Oh, thank goodness!"

"Are you guys okay?"

"One of those Angels you were talking about caught us in the lab." Panted Fitz. "But this . . . ice came out of nowhere and stopped it."

"Ice? Cool. Okay, you two get out of here. If you meet another Angel remember it can't move as long as you're looking at it." Baba squealed from his perch on her shoulder. "Oh, right – and don't look in the eyes." Fitz reached over and ran a finger over Baba's fur. The rat emitted a blissful, purr-like noise, and affectionately arched his back under the motion. Sting smiled reassuringly then lightly shoved Fitz and Simmons behind her and ran past them.

"Now get going!" Simmons immediately started to run, but Fitz hung back long enough to hear Sting as she disappeared around the corner.

"Way to go, Jack!"

* * *

By the time Sting ran up, Jack had completely encased the Angel in a thick layer of ice.

"How'd you get them to leave if they can't see you?"

"I wrote them a message." Jack nodded towards his frosty patch on the wall. "They could see that."

"Nice. Now what do we do with this one?"

"I don't know. Any ideas?"

She scratched her head. "Yeah, but it's rather vague and involves-"

Her words were cut off as the ground at their feet exploded.

* * *

The overall goal of Pitch and the Angels wasn't exactly to control the world, but to instead throw it into a state of constant chaos by repeatedly striking key sources of power around the world. With any luck they could use the bedlam to hunt down individual threats to their power (Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers, and so on) and execute them before they had a chance to join forces and fight back. And once the people of the Earth had no one left to protect them, they would be a ready-made, all-you-can-eat buffet that the Pitch could terrorize and draw power from at will, and that the Angels could feast on. And by the time assistance for the humans came from somewhere off world (if any such assistance came at all), they would be strong enough to provide a formidable opposition.

When they had first arrived at Triskelion, four Angels had branched off with Pitch to scout out the building. The other three, accompanied by Nightmares to help darken the way, had hunted out the storage facilities to find weapons, explosives, or machines that might assist them in emptying the building. A few security guards got in the way, but they were swiftly dealt with. (In other words, those guards woke up and found themselves in the year 1920.) Meanwhile, the Angels loaded up on goods, and set off to rescue the one that had been captured. Among the weapons they took were a couple of (slightly outdated) bazookas and an experimental machine called the "Atmospheric Moisture Freezing Device" that had been designed to control the weather. It didn't work exactly like it was supposed to, but it was good for freezing objects, and the Angels decided that it might be useful in freezing the entire building to discourage further entries by unwelcome parties. And if they failed in their objective to capture the Triskelion, or if Pitch was somehow apprehended, they could use the machine to abandon him, freeze the surface of the Potomac River, and flee before dawn.

It was the missiles from the bazookas slamming into the ceiling of the floor beneath Sting and Jack and ripping it open that prevented the mutant girl from finishing her sentence.

* * *

The ice holding the Angel in place began to crack and break apart. Jack and Sting both stumbled, and before either one had a chance to lift off their feet and rise to a safer position a piece of rubble smacked Sting hard between the eyes and her mind fell into darkness.

By the time she came back to consciousness, someone had her by the arms and was dragging her away from the pile of wreckage in the middle of the floor. She opened her eyes only to find everything was a blurred, fuzzy mess. She squeezed them shut, then tried another look. A jagged hole leading to where she and Jack had been standing moments before gaped down at her from the ceiling. She twisted her head to the right - then felt her breath hitch in her throat as she caught a glimpse of a man escorting two injured people out of sight. The man turned and looked back, met eyes with someone behind her, nodded, and disappeared. Sting blinked blearily and squinted after him. The man looked almost exactly like Agent Phil Coulson, a friend of hers. But, he was dead . . . wasn't he? He'd been killed shortly before the Battle of New York almost two years ago. She'd seen his dead body wheeled past her on a stretcher - right before she ran away to a place where no one would see her punch a wall over and over.

"She's awake." Sting turned and saw Jack and Fitz working together to pull her to safety. Jack dropped her arm and knelt beside her as Baba scurried over from a piece of debris.

"You okay?"

She put a hand to her head. "I'm okay." Then, after a glance at Fitz, "Can he, uh, see you?"

"Yep." Fitz answered before Jack could open his mouth. "Like I told him, I think his cloaking device is malfunctioning. I'd be happy to take a look at it at a later time if he likes."

Sting resisted the urge to facepalm. "Where did you come from anyway?"

"I heard the explosion and came back to find you." He looked around. "What happened to the Angels?"

Sting got to her knees and looked around the dimly lit room. There wasn't an Angel in sight. "They got away. Perfect. They're probably after some poor, unfortunate soul."

"Well, then we'll need to draw them out again. What if we gave them another poor, unfortunate soul to chase?" Jack and Sting turned and stared at Fitz like he had suggested base jumping with only a plastic bag for a parachute.

"Fitz," said Sting as a hint of grey crept into her eyes "What on _earth_ are you talking about?"

* * *

"Of all the stupid idea he could've come up with! All I'm saying is that if he gets himself killed it won't be my problem!"

Jack nodded absentmindedly. "Uh-huh, yeah. How come he can suddenly see me?" The two of them were flying downstairs seemingly with the intent of hunting Pitch.

Sting shrugged. Apparently, just believing that a Jack Frost existed was enough for Fitz to be able to see him, but it was still doubtful that Fitz truly believed that Jack was the real deal.

"Fitz is a very smart man. He probably heard me call you Jack, saw the frost you put on the wall and put two and two together."

"Yeah, but . . . _a cloaking device_?"

"He works in tech, not magic."

A tall, dark haired man who had just entered the stairwell gave Sting a strange look as they passed him.

"Talking to yourself again?"

Sting slammed to a halt and half turned around. "Well, how else am I supposed to get any intelligent conversation?"

"How about just trying to work on _not_ bringing us a hoard of crazy Angels?"

She rolled her eyes and glared irritably. "Beat it, Ward." Baba grunted his approval as they continued onwards.

"He doesn't like anyone here, does he?" Jack observed, referring to the rat.

"Baba? Oh no, he likes a lot of people. He just has very particular tastes." She didn't say anymore than that on the matter because she couldn't quite explain it. Baba himself couldn't explain it either. He would only say that something felt "off" about certain people. His judgements in character had been well proven over the years which is why Sting trusted his word, but sometimes it was hard to be suspicious of certain people. Agent Sitwell, for instance, repulsed her because there was a smug, self-satisfied air about him that she detested; while Agent Ward (despite his tendency to be humorless and cynical) was a fairly nice guy when you got to know him.

* * *

Fitz barreled through the darkened hallways. He could sense _them_ just behind him. He was sure that they were toying with him (otherwise he would have been caught by now); what he didn't know was how long it would be before they tired of the game and finally ended him. He needed tools from his lab - in fact, that was the only reason he was in his current position in the first place, but events had escalated much faster than he had expected.

After what seemed like an eternity, he found the lab, edged around the hole in the floor, and ducked inside. He rifled through his notebooks, snatched up a couple of devices that he and Simmons had been working on from his workbench, and turned around right as a shadow flickered across his ceiling.

A winged shadow.

Fitz slowly turned his head. An Angel stood to his right. He backed toward the door, but another Angel was blocking the way. He changed course and found himself backed into a wall, noticing that the first Angel had moved significantly closer. Now he knew beyond a doubt that they were playing with him. Either one could have single-handedly ended him by now. They were purposely drawing out the torture.

"Hello, fellas." He whispered nervously. They were on either side of him now, positioned so that he couldn't possibly keep both in sight at the same time. One stretched out its hand - and Fitz vanished . . .

. . . Only to reappear safely out of the Angels reach with Sting holding his hand. Jack quickly swung in the doorway, staff at the ready, but his precautions were unneeded. They Angels, caught unawares by Fitz's premature disappearance, found themselves staring at each other and unable to move.

Sting wiped her forehead with her wrist as Baba poked his head out of her pocket. "Well, that idea worked out better than I expected."

"You and me both." Agreed Fitz. "Now what?"

Jack heard Simmons' voice down the hallway calling for Fitz. "I'd say your escort is on its way."

Sting flew to the door and peeked around the corner. "Huh!" She smiled at Fitz. "Look at that! Your girl brought a small platoon just to come find you!"

Fitz blushed. "Sh-she's not . . . we're just friends."

Sting's grin only got wider. Her mouth said "Okay," but her twinkling eyes declared _we'll see._

Fitz looked back at the Angels.

"We'll deal with them." Assured Jack. Fitz nodded and briefly clasped him on the shoulder.

"It was great meeting you. I'll see you both later when this is all over." And with that, he disappeared through the doorway. Jack waited until he was out of sight before he pulled the snow globe from the pocket of his hoodie.

"Where should we send them?" He asked referring to the Angels.

Sting shrugged indifferently. "Somewhere definitely off-world."

Jack though back to all tales of different realms and dimensions he'd picked up during his many travels.

"I hear Jotunheim is nice this time of year."

She smiled deviously. "Brilliant!" Then she addressed the statues. "Yo, Angel Kyle? I want you to know that I remembered where I've seen you before. New York in 1906. I protected a small town from you until you sent me back in time to the Salem Witch Trials. But after the stories I spread, I imagine you still didn't have much luck hunting any future victims."

"Yeah, sending you away was extremely disappointing." Kyle's voice spoke on behalf of the Angels. "Especially since you were rescued by your time-traveling friend before they could feed on you or anything. But, they want you to know that they picked out that era just for you and that they hoped you enjoyed it."

Sting's eyes turned green and her face turned crimson. "You sent me there _on purpose_?!"

Jack winced. Knowing Sting, she'd probably had the entire town in an uproar – and not in a positive way.

"Here's a little something to return the favor." He brandished the snow globe and threw it at their feet where the portal exploded into being. Jack quickly "welded" their hands together with ice so that they'd be forced to keep each other in sight, then he and Sting worked together to push the pair through the portal which closed behind them. Ordinarily, they might not have been able to manage it on their own as neither one was very strong physically, but North had increased this snow-globe's gravity field, so they managed it easily.

As soon as they were gone, Sting rubbed her hands together and cracked her neck. "Two down, five to go."

"C'mon." Said Jack. "Let's get moving."

* * *

North was waiting for them on the forty-first floor.

"Did it work?" He asked as Jack and Sting flew up.

"Like a charm." Jack answered.

They turned into the hallway, planning their next course of action. A torn piece of paper on the ground, one out of dozens scattered about, caught Sting's eye and she picked it up. It took her a moment to realize that the words on it were Russian. Without warning, North noticed the paper and grabbed from her hand.

"What do those words say?" Sting asked, not minding in the least so long as North was willing to translate.

Confused, he stopped in his tracks and stared at the paper. "Zey are meaningless. Unconnected."

"That's not the answer I was hoping for. Spill the beans."

North let out a sigh and pointed to the first word on the page as Jack looked over his shoulder. "Look. That is _Longing._ " He pointed to the next. "That is _Rusted._ " More words. "That is _Furnace,_ and that means _Seventeen._ "

"Huh?" Jack reached for the paper at the same time as Sting, but her hand was faster and she snatched it first.

"What the heck is _Longing, Rusted, Furnace_ supposed to mean _?_ "

"Is it a code or something?" Jack asked.

"It's like no code that I've ever heard. What-" She froze as she felt Baba crawl onto her shoulder, his fur prickling and standing on end. And like something from a horror movie, a low groan came from the room immediately to their left.

As one, Jack, North, and Sting slowly swiveled their heads toward the noise as a voice croaked:

"I-Is s-s-someone out there?"

North grimaced. Sting swore. This smelled like a trap.

Peering into the dim room, they could just make out the silhouette of a man sitting motionless on the floor propped up against a table.

Jack leaned over to Sting. "You're going to be the only one he'll be able to see."

Baba crouched uncertainly next to Sting's neck. "We'll go in together and get him out." She whispered. "North, will you follow behind us?"

North nodded.

Sting carefully reached through the doorway and felt for the light switch, but as she'd expected, the power had been cut off. The only light that would be available would be that which came in from the hallway and the moonbeams coming through the window from the full moon outside. As they proceeded through the entrance, Agent Sitwell stepped out from another doorway where he'd been hiding and hurried towards the stairwell, stopping only to scoop up the paper that had fallen forgotten to the floor. Sting sensed his movement and glanced toward the doorway as he went by. For the briefest of seconds, their eyes met, and Sting got the fleeting impression that she now knew something she shouldn't.

But the man ahead of them moaned, and the moment passed. Turning her mind to the situation at hand, Sting lit up her hand just enough to generate a weak glow and hurried forwards with Jack just behind.

"Please help me!"

"We're almost there. Hang on." Sting reassured him. She knelt next to him and reached a hand out.

In one smooth motion, the man vanished. All three of his intended rescuers blinked in astonishment: One second, he was there and the next he wasn't. Then something caught Sting's eye. A stone hand poking out from behind the table, right where the man's elbow used to be. A stone face next to the hand eyed her with a triumphant smirk.

That realization was what finally snapped the girl out her stupor. She choked on her frustrations and began ranting in Yiddish so that her present company wouldn't understand what she was saying. This might have been Fitz's fate if she hadn't arrived in time to turn him invisible and pull him away from danger.

Suddenly, Jack gurgled out a choking cry, and when Sting spun around he was nowhere to be seen. She whirled back around and caught sight of him in the grasp of an Angel standing by the window, confined in a headlock. One wrong move, one _blink_ , and the Angel would snap his neck like a twig. Sting didn't dare to even try to blast the Angel in the face - she might hit Jack instead. Instead, her energy hit the Angels arm and shattered it into pieces.

Another choking gurgle came from behind her and she turned to see North in a similar condition, only held by two Angels. A quick movement of her hand, and one Angel was rendered headless while the other one lost an arm. The older man quickly freed himself and snapped off the remaining arm with a twist of his wrist. Baba squealed a warning, and Sting turned just as one of North's huge swords flew past her and obliterated a Fearling that had been about to football-tackle her to the ground. The creature died with a screeching howl and the sword embedded itself in the floor.

And right when things couldn't seem to get any tenser, the room was plunged into shadow.

" _You_?" Pitch's voice was frustrated and annoyed, as though he grew weary of having wrenches constantly thrown in his plans. "How did _you_ get here?"

Sting took the question for herself.

"Uhhh . . . I flew? I _can_ fly y'know."

Pitch scoffed. "Yes, I know." His voice gained a devious edge. "But you'll find that even flying can only carry you so far."

There was a hard thump, a short cry, and a loud crack.

Sting spun around.

"JACK!"

Jack lay unconscious on the floor where the Angel had thrown him hard against the window. The glass hadn't broken completely yet, but it was close to it. Sting and North both dove to save him, but with a wave of his hand, Pitch threw the room from deep shadow into, well, pitch blackness. The glass shattered completely, and when Pitch lifted his hand all that remained was a jagged hole, and no Jack.

Sting screeched with horror and rage. Her eyes burned such a mixed shade of grey and green that they nearly lit up the room like torches.

"Pitch Black, I _swear_ if I ever see you again I'll club you so hard your brains will bleed out your ears! North, I'll meet you in the sleigh." And she dove after Jack. She didn't let gravity simply help her but instead accelerated with it, shooting down like a torpedo and slamming to a halt merely fifteen feet above the Potomac River - only to find the Angels had already made use of the weather device they had found. The machine had once frozen an entire swimming pool solid in a matter of seconds, so freezing the surface of a river for short ways was child's play. The ice wasn't thick enough for the Angels to walk on yet, but that would be remedied soon enough with the passing of time.

The only thing marring its flawless surface was the jagged hole directly beneath where Sting was hovering.

* * *

 **Cliffhanger! Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaa!**

 **If this plotline is starting to feel a bit random, I swear it's not. I bought in the Weather Device from the AoS episode _Seeds_ , because I thought it would be too late in the year for the river to still be frozen. (I don't actually know for sure because I don't live in New York.) **

**Also, if anyone notices some _slight_ inconsistencies between this timeline and MCU Timeline, just ignore it, and take it for granted that SHIELD hasn't fallen to HYDRA yet (but is about to). Constructive criticisms are appreciated, but please nothing nasty or mean-spirited. **

**Thanks for reading, and I hope this didn't disappoint!**


End file.
